


Wicked Fixation

by Ritsy, SebasuchansKitten



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Violence, graphic smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ritsy/pseuds/Ritsy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebasuchansKitten/pseuds/SebasuchansKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has an obsession; when the strings of fate snare you in the spider's web, those minor infatuations can become deadly. For those who have spent their life in darkness, telling true attraction and and unhealthy preoccupations apart is one hell of a feat.</p><p>A thirst for revenge and budding sexual desire is all that drives Ciel Phantomhive. But when betrayal strikes, and a horrifying revelation comes to light, his world shifts beneath his feet. When an enemy becomes your only friend, and those who you thought you could trust forsake you, where do you lay your trust?</p><p>The pain of a recent betrayal stings deep into Sebastian Michaelis' psyche, hardening his heart to those around him. He refuses to let another into his life, and he keeps everyone at arm's length. Professionalism and timeliness are his only comforts, but when temptation shakes his resolve, will he be able to resist the need of his sexually deprived body?</p><p>Will wicked fixations be their undoing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ciel

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings from Ritsy and Sebasuchanskitten~ I am pleased to announce that we have decided to collaborate. This is the first chapter to our glorious brain-child. Here's how things are going to work; I (Ritsy) will be writing from First Person Point-Of-View for Ciel and Claude, and Sebasuchanskitten will be doing the same for Sebastian and Alois. Pay close attention to the title of the chapter, as it will have the name of one of those four characters, signifying that what you're going to be reading is that person's point of view. There is no particular order in which we will be following, though we will be taking turns writing a chapter to post. Therefore, chapter two is going to be my darling Kit's amazing writing. We will try to update as regularly as possible, so please bear with us. This story will be AO3 exclusive, meaning that it will only be available here for your reading pleasure. Please enjoy the first chapter, which is from Ciel's POV.

A gentle breeze was dancing through the air, breathing life into the branches of trees, causing the green leaves to flutter and frolic joyfully. The sun was shining its warmth down onto the asphalt, rays of light filtering through the car's windows as it moved at an annoyingly slow pace. A sigh left my lips as I stared begrudgingly out the window, headphones pumping loud music into my ears. It was a beautiful day, the kind of beauty that inspired me to lie beneath a tree with a book and fall asleep. Much to my displeasure, this splendid day was marking the end of my summer, and the beginning of my first day at college. My frown deepened at the thought of the university that my father had selected for me; sure, it was a prestigious school, but it positively stank of the pretentious idea that money could buy anything. I was not so foolish as to think that money could buy everything you desired. No matter how much wealth you possessed, you couldn't bring a person back from death.

That thought darkened my already gloomy mood, so I removed my gaze from the suddenly insulting sight of the scenery and looked down at my iPod. Scrolling through the numerous bands that occupied the space of the device, I recalled how my cousin would whine that all of my music was "depressive bullpoopie." That was literally how she put it, and the fact that she said _bullpoopie_ still made me snort with laughter at the ridiculousness of it. We were almost adults, and yet she still refused to curse. How insufferably innocent she was. Sometimes I wanted to suffocate that innocence, rip it out from under her feet, yet at the same time I wanted her to remain pure. Aunt Frances had sheltered Elizabeth from the life of the family that she had married out of, and I didn't want to shit on her efforts. Not out of consideration of her, but because my aunt would positively murder me. The bitch was ruthless.

At least I wouldn't have to deal with Elizabeth in school anymore, as she was now a senior in high school, and I had graduated a year early and was moving on to University. My train of thought had come full circle, and I was back to being irritated. It wasn't as if I hated learning, or hated school, it was quite the opposite; I loved knowledge, the smell of books, being lectured on innumerable subjects. No, it was having to be surrounded by people that I loathed. Maybe it was a side effect of my vast intelligence, but I found myself to be quite antisocial. I had been hoping to take a year off of school, to study on my own, maybe go abroad and learn about other cultures before having to subject myself to the gaping assholes of the population.

That hope had been crushed by my father, who had informed me that he had taken the liberty of enrolling me at the university he had attended, and that I had no choice in the matter. I was still pissed off at him, but it wasn't like he noticed, seeing how we were never in the same room for very long, if at all. He was too busy throwing himself into his work rather than being a father, as he had been doing for as long as I could remember. Ever since—

The back door opening jolted me out of my thoughts, and I looked up at my chauffeur as I yanked my headphones out, controlling my features into a mask of apathy.

"Young Master, we have arrived," he stated, and my only acknowledgement to him as I grasped my backpack was to nod my head slightly.

Sliding out of the luxurious car, I slung my heavy bag over my shoulder, and headed toward the grand entrance of the main building. Already I could feel my indifferent expression fading away as my usual gloomy exterior took its place. Each step I took towards the school felt like I was walking through molten lead, each movement filled with resignment at being trapped here with everyone that was money. My only comfort was my exceptionally idiotic and deranged best friend, whom I had graduated with. Color me surprised when he announced that he had been accepted into the university where the best and brightest flourished, as he's quite retarded. When I finally made it through the doors, anxiety twisted my stomach when I saw how many students were loitering, but I quickly squashed it. I strode forward with my head held high and an air of confidence.

Until I realised I had no idea where my first class was at. _Shit_. The university building was fucking huge, and with every twisting turn I made through the halls that connected to the other buildings on the sprawling grounds, I could feel myself getting more and more lost. Where was the literature department? As time began dwindling down, I could feel panic rising up, and I began picking up my pace, frantically searching for the right room.

I stopped dead in my tracks, as the realisation that I had a map punched me in the stomach. I was a fucking idiot. Suppressing a sigh and a wave of self-loathing, I practically tore my bag open and dug through it, my fingers grazing over the map. Yanking it out, I scanned the page, finding where I was (the maths department), and where my classroom was located (all the way on the other side of the building). Memorising the best route, I shoved the map into my backpack and tore ass back the way I had come. I ran for dear life, feeling the minutes slipping away. I would be damned if I was going to be late on my first day, let alone to my favorite subject. My lungs protested, wheezing and aching from the impending asthma attack. Fuck you, lungs. Fuck you, asthma. My legs burned with the exertion I was forcing on my body, yet I pushed myself until I was sprinting.

I took a sharp right turn and skidded to a halt right outside of the classroom, bending at the waist and wrapping my arms tightly around myself. I gasped and sputtered, trying to get air into my lungs. My airway was tight, threatening me with an asthma attack. Just what I fucking needed. I forced myself to take a deep breath and slowly let it out, rather than hyperventilate like an idiot. When I felt like I had my breathing under some semblance of control, I straightened up and walked into the room. There were students gathered in small groups at the tables, talking and laughing. I could feel the heat in my face from running, and I'm sure I had red splotches decorating my normally flawless skin. My body felt like jello, but I managed to walk all the way to the back of the room, away from all the other students. I plopped down into the wooden chair and sighed in relief; I had made it exactly on time. My head was lulling back and my eyes closed, and I relaxed by pretending I was still at home, in bed, having a day of leisure.

It suddenly occured to me that no one was at the front desk lecturing. I opened my blue eyes and lifted my head, staring straight where the professor should have been. I was instantly pissed. What the fuck kind of asshole was late to his own lecture? I fumed angrily, thinking I could have taken my sweet ass time walking over here, when a tall raven-haired male entered the room. Arching a brow, I studied him. He was dressed in a nice, professional suit, so I immediately deduced that he was the professor. His hair was black as night, his fringe long and framing his face; one strand of hair was out of place, hanging down between his eyes and probably tickling his nose. As far back as I was, I could tell that he had prominent features, his cheekbones high, his face angular and long, but not excessively so. He was a fucking giant, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. His hands were quite large (by my standards, since I had dainty lady hands), yet he was well proportioned for his height. Overall, he was aesthetically pleasing, attractive even, but I had no interest in dating. Or people.

When he spoke, his deep timbre was like liquid velvet, and as pleasing to the ears as it was, I instantly tuned him out after catching that he was Professor Michaelis and what class this was. I was not interested in listening to a man who was late to his own damn class, who had wasted my time. Instead I pulled out a notebook, flipped to a clean page, and started doodling.

I pretended to listen and take notes throughout the whole period. By the time we were dismissed, I had drawn a svelte Chinese dragon who was ripping apart a woman with his dagger-like claws. Putting away the notebook, I stood and walked out of the class, barely sparing a glance at the professor. As I did so, though, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were the strangest color. Vermillion with hints of chocolate flecks in their depths. Pushing the thoughts of his eyes and how genetics could have allowed for that color, I retrieved my map and began finding my way to my second class.

* * *

The week practically flew by, and I barely paid attention to any of my classes. The only time I actually listened to any of the professors is when they were assigning something. There was so much fucking maths homework, and while it wasn't anywhere near hard enough to challenge me, it was a tedious task to complete it all. I put in the barest minimum of effort. Professor Michaelis had assigned an essay on Tuesday, which he stated was due Thursday. I didn't remember what it was supposed to be on, and I didn't care to remember. I merely scrawled it lazily into my notebook and promptly went back to doodling a fancy skeleton. Wednesday night, I vaguely recalled the essay I had to write. Michaelis had said something about a 10,000 word minimum. I checked my notebook and saw what I had written down.

"The significance of famous works of literature and the impact they have had on modern society? Pfft. This should be easy to bullshit."

I spent about an hour dicking around on my laptop, barely doing any research and bullshitting the entire paper. I wasn't concerned that I would get anything less than an A+. All of my teachers in high school praised me for all of the hard work and effort I put into the assignments. That was laughable. Everything they assigned was tedious rubbish; as if I would waste my precious energy on such nonsense. I would always procrastinate, and then pull the whole essay out of my ass in a matter of hours. I actually thought that this essay was my best work, even though I didn't try very hard at all. I had written it out in a way that it ended at exactly 10,000 words. I wasn't a fucking overachiever. I printed it and slid it into a folder, which was then returned to my backpack.

The next day I turned it in, feeling quite cocky as I took in the exhausted faces of my classmates. Peasants. They probably had been working really hard on writing the essay, as they only had a day to complete it. I scoffed, my face a mask of superiority. Money wasn't going to buy them good grades.

Friday morning, I was seated in my usual place at the back of the classroom, sketching a sugar skull, when my essay was dropped unceremoniously on the table, face down. Picking it up and flipping it over, I could feel my jaw drop and hit the floor. A B? A _fucking B_? Who did this professor think he was? I never got anything other than A+ on anything. I was a straight A student all through my schooling. How the fuck did I get a B?

Seething with anger, I sat up straighter than I had all week and glared daggers at Michaelis throughout the whole class. If looks could kill, he'd have been dead. I didn't listen to his lecture, I didn't draw. I sat rigid in my seat, one hand gripping the seat of my chair, the other strangling my pen to death. I waited, waited for everyone to be dismissed and for the fucking peasants to leave so I could confront the professor. Maybe it had been an accident, or maybe he thought he was grading someone else's mediocre paper. Maybe he had a fucking brain aneurism. Maybe he was fucking retarded.

When the bell finally rang, and everyone was dismissed, I sat there, barely relaxing my posture, as everyone slowly gathered up their shit and trudged out of the classroom. It took 5 minutes for everyone to clear the fuck out. I carelessly shoved all of my shit into my backpack, save for the essay, and slung it over my shoulder before standing. I casually walked up to his desk, clutching my essay in one of my delicate hands, the other moving to push my fringe out of my eyes. I attempted to tame the rage, masking my expression with neutrality to avoid letting him on to my anger too soon. Wouldn't want to release the cat from the bag just yet.

I watched him closely, like a predator stalks its prey, as he stood up from his seat. His long fingers pushed a strand of his pitch black hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear, though it immediately started to come loose and threatened to fall back in his face. He started picking up papers that were irrelevant to me, so I decided to confront him before he left. I took a few steps towards the desk and cleared my throat. I looked up at him through my obscenely long lashes, hoping to come off as shy.

"Ah, excuse me, Professor Michaelis. I have a question regarding the essay," I said, waving the paper in the air to add emphasis.

He had the gall to narrow his vermillion eyes at me, his sharply arched brow raising as he straightened up. I could see his muscles tensing beneath his clothing as he stiffened. "Is there something you require, Mr. Phantomhive?"

Um, hello, did I not just say I had a question about the essay, asshole? I could feel my eye wanting to twitch in irritation, though I still had control over my facial expressions. Hoping to get him to drop whatever guards he had thrown up as soon as I spoke to him, I bit my bottom lip, tilting my head down submissively and continued to look through my lashes at his stupidly attractive face. I was hoping that I appeared shy and nervous, though I had the fleeting feeling that it wasn't pulling the wool over the Professor's eyes.

"Well, I was wondering, um, why you gave me a B? I've only ever gotten A+ throughout all of my schooling. Was there something wrong with my essay?" I resisted the urge to pout, knowing that it would get me nowhere with this man.

Michaelis hummed thoughtfully, appearing to mull over my question. "I'm certain you already know why you received a B."

Well that wasn't what I expected. I blinked, and jerked slightly, taken aback by the surety in his voice. I could feel my face twisting in confusion as I finally looked up at him fully. "I beg your pardon? I really don't understand why, Sir?" My voice was laced with uncertainty.

He stops looking at me, instead turning his attentions back onto gathering his papers, as if it's more important than I am. I can see the barest hints of a smile gracing his lips, and it makes me want to slap him across his smug face. "Well I suppose if you're going to act as poorly as your essay was transcribed, then I will tell you; there was no effort put into it whatsoever."

This fucking _asshole_. My mouth instantly curled into an offended frown, my blue eyes becoming hard as azure ice. I can feel my hands tightening into fists, and the sound of crinkling paper as I wrinkle my essay grates on my ears. It's taking everything I have in me not to scream and hit like a petulant child. I take a deep, soothing breath before speaking calmly. "And what, pray tell, led you to that conclusion? I have always been praised for the effort that I have put into every essay that I have ever written."

His sanguine eyes travel up from his desk to my face, burning my skin like flames as he callously regards me. "Then perhaps you were granted admission to this university thanks to wealth, rather than intelligence. I am not blind, Mr. Phantomhive, I have taught many conceited and over-confident students in the past, students who believed they could pass my class by leaning back and simply breathing in the scent of roses.

"You did no research, you did no reading, you didn't even look into the deep recesses of your mind to find simple synonyms to the overused adjectives you graced your essay with. You will not receive an A for your nonexistent efforts, and you certainly won't pass my class." It was as if he slapped me, or insulted my family name, the rage ignited within me so fast it gave me whiplash.

I could feel it, the word vomit, sitting menacingly in the back of my throat. I wanted to tear this man down, destroy him, rip his tongue out, anything to silence the insolence pouring from his full lips. I bit down on my tongue hard enough to draw blood, and swallowed the torrent of feelings welling within my chest. I could feel my face flame, though it wasn't from embarrassment, no. It was from unbridled outrage. My nails dug into the flesh of my palms, and it helped me calm down enough to think rationally and speak with a smooth placidity that I wouldn't have otherwise managed.

"I am more intelligent than 75% of the students here, these pretentious 'scholars' who think that their father's money will buy them everything they desire. The mere suggestion that I would ride my father's coattails to get into this grandiose university is laughable." I could feel my feet acting on their own, taking a step away from his desk to keep his slender neck out of reach of my dainty hands that were practically itching for violence.

Again, my body moved on it's own, and I found myself rounding his desk, coming chest to chest with the man that towered over me, who could probably toss me around like a rag doll if he so wished. I find my royal blue eyes rolling up to look at his pale, angular face, up into the pools of vermillion that stare down into me with the same ferocity. I am uncomfortably close to him, his breath is caressing my inflamed cheeks, my ribs brushing against his stomach, which again reminds me how much shorter I am than he is. Compared to this giant of a man, I'm a fucking midget. Idly, I wonder how tall he is, compared to my 4'11". Too many trains of thought are going at once, I can barely keep up, but my mouth continues to move of its own accord.

"I will prove you wrong, Professor. You will eat your words." How I'm so certain of this, I have no idea, but I feel as if he personally challenged me. And there's no fucking way I'd back down from a challenge.

There's a fire in his eyes as his glare seems to intensify, a fire that makes my stomach flutter unpleasantly. If looks could kill, I'd be dead. "Do you honestly think that threatening me will get you anywhere? If you believe that you are so intelligent, start acting like it. I am not afraid of you, nor of your claim to make me eat my words; if you truly think that what you say will bother me, you need to reevaluate your strategy. I am not here to waste time, and I will not allow you to waste my time, either. Whether you were admitted due to wealth or intelligence, you are here to pass my class. So, I suggest that you seriously rethink your routine of arrogance and laziness, because you will never see another A again until you do." Did this man even breathe? It was like he had sucked in all of the air in the room to spout off everything he had said without pause.

I guess it made sense, though, because he was a Professor, and he gave lectures several times a day.

"Threaten you?" I could feel my eyes widening, a shocked laugh ripping from my throat without my consent as I shook my head at the ridiculousness. He thought that was threatening? Obviously he was not familiar with my family name, otherwise he would know what a true threat was. "Professor, if I were threatening you, it would be so much more than making you eat your words."

If he only knew the power I could hold over him. I cocked a brow and tilted my head to the side, feeling my anger dissipating slowly as rationality finally made an appearance in my rage addled brain. I took a step back, removing my person from his. My body felt tingly everywhere it had come into contact with his, as if microscopic hairs were standing on end at the proximity that we had just shared.

"All right, I'll accept your challenge, Sir. I'll pass your class, and I will do it with straight A's. This B is merely a minor setback. I rarely waste my effort, but I think I can make an exception in this case. I won't be wasting your time, I can promise you that. Let me show you how intelligent I truly am, _Sebastian_." I could feel the bitter tasting sarcasm coat my tongue, and I jutted out my chin, letting a sneer curl my lips. I was sure I looked as haughty and arrogant as an Earl.

Oh, the way the fury twisted his expression, it made me want to antagonize him further, to capture that image with paint on a canvas. It made me feel victorious, like I had won some small victory in this war to come. "You will refer to me as Mr. Michaelis. For someone making such drastic promises, I would think you'd be aware of the term 'professionalism.'"

The bite in his voice was perfection; I had hit a nerve, and I relished in it. I could feel the sneer become a smile of sheer delight, and my eyes lit up with the joy of a child who just received the toy that he had been coveting. "Oh, did that get under your skin, _Sebastian_?" I tapped my index finger against my lips, as if I was contemplating all the ways I could bug him by using his first name. I rocked back on my heels, humming in pleasure. "I'll have to keep that in mind then."

Ah, again that rage contorted his face so beautifully, though it was fleeting. My sole reason for living could be to make him lose his composure, to have that mask of calmness slip to show me, and only me, the burning flames beneath. The sly smile that replaced the expression I so desired made the fingers of foreboding dance along my spine.

"So it is courtesy you lack rather than professionalism. Very well, since you seem to be new to the concept of proper mannerisms, I'm assigning you a 5,000 word essay on the importance of respect and consideration, due Monday morning the second class starts. I expect you to use adjectives that aren't equivalent to an eight-year-old's vocabulary, and bearing in mind that you are so blind to the subject of respect, I suggest you do some actual research this time."

I almost laughed in his face, though I forced my smile to fall into a frown and quirked my brow. It took all of my willpower to seem as though I was highly displeased with the prospect of having to write an essay that was 5,000 words long. "Fine. I'll be sure to make an effort this time, Sir, if that's what you want." I was amazed at how smooth my voice was, that it didn't shake with the laughter that I suppressed. The depth of my restraint simply amazed me. I made myself appear meek, complacent, and obedient. At least, for now I would act that way.

"Good," Sebastian stated, and he seemed almost pleased. At least to me he did. He turned back to his desk, making sure he had gathered all that he had needed as he addressed me. "Other than that insignificant conversation, do you require any more of my valuable time, or are you simply going to stand here and embarrass yourself further?"

I scoffed, barely sparing him a glance as I crumpled the essay which had the unsightly B written on it in red, and dropped it into the recycling bin. I did consider tossing it on the floor, but decided not to incur any more of Sebastian's wrath. Today.

I waved my hand dismissively in the air as I turned my back to him. "No, Sir. I'm done wasting your time. My apologies." I walk towards the door, repositioning my backpack to make sure that it won't slide off of my shoulders. I hear Sebastian mutter _'what a troubling boy'_ as I exit the classroom, though I pretend as though I didn't hear him. I'm sure he didn't mean for me to hear it, anyway, and there's no reason to start arguing with him again. I was already drained from that encounter.

I was halfway to the maths department before I realised that my skinny jeans were feeling uncomfortably tight. I glanced down at my crotch, and sure enough, my dick was half hard. Which, what the fuck? Why the hell? I made a beeline for the nearest restroom, glancing underneath the stalls to make sure there were no feet. Seeing that the room was unoccupied, I locked the main door, and quickly slipped into an empty stall. The lock slid with finality, dread and arousal settling in my lower stomach. I was really going to do this, wasn't I?

My fingers fumbled with the button and zipper on my jeans as I leaned my back against the stall door. Succeeding in undoing my trousers, I released my dick from its confines, groaning in relief. I curled my slender fingers around the turgid, throbbing flesh, my breath hitching in my throat. I slid my hand down to the tip, rolling the head between the digits and rubbing my thumb against the slit. My breathing became heavy, and I could feel sweat beading on my forehead as my cheeks became flush with arousal. As I tightened my grip on my dick, I slid my hand up and back down, my eyes glazing over with lust.

I knew what had done this to me. That aggressive exchange was so full of testosterone. I could practically smell the pheromones rolling off of Sebastian; he was divine, the aroma of sex, his unique musk. The scent still taunted my nose, and it was driving me wild. An unfamiliar keening noise rose in my throat as I pumped myself faster, my head lolling back and banging against the door. I bucked my hips into my hand, my fingers collecting and smearing precum all along the length of my dick. I bit down harshly on my lip, trying to muffle my voice. The last thing I needed was to alert any students or Professors.

I fucked my hand faster and harder, trying to bring myself closer to my release before someone decided that they needed to get into this restroom. I could feel the familiar coiling sensation in my lower stomach, the telltale sign that I was getting close. In an act of desperation, I let my pants and boxers fall to my ankles, turned myself around, and pressed my chest into the cold metal of the stall door. I arched my back and spread my legs, bent slightly at the waist.

My occupied hand continued to work my dick, and my free hand slid behind my back and between my ass cheeks. My sweat-slicked digits expertly teased the rosy ring of flesh, which twitched in anticipation. I swallowed a breathy moan as I eased a finger inside of myself. My walls squeezed the digit tightly, and I shivered, leaning my face heavily into the door. The hand caressing my dick slowed down to match pace with the finger that moved in and out of me. I was too impatient, and I quickly added another digit, wincing at the slightly burning pain at being stretched so suddenly. I didn't care though, as I started moving my hand faster, curling the fingers and searching for that little bundle of nerves.

I fucked my hand with a quickened pace, the need to cum tingling over every inch of my skin. My lower stomach tightened as my fingers brushed over my prostate, and I moaned in surprised pleasure as the coil came undone, my seed spurting all over the stall door. I milked every drop from my dick, until it slowly throbbed back into it's docile state. My legs shook with the exertion of which I just fucked myself. My head swam with how powerfully I came, and I collapsed on the toilet. I stared blankly at the door, watching my cum ooze slowly down the metal.

As my orgasmic high dissipated, I could feel shock at my actions rip through me. What the actual fuck had I just done? _Well, you just fucked yourself._ Oh, haha brain, so fucking helpful. I huffed in annoyance at myself, quickly gathering some toilet paper to clean up my mess. Once I was satisfied, I pulled up my pants and refastened them. After washing my hands, I checked the time on my phone. I had missed half of my maths class while I was jerking off in the restroom. Well, fuck it. I highly doubted I would be able to focus on maths today anyway.

* * *

I was sitting at my desk, one leg tucked under the other in my office chair, my posture stiff as I typed away at the essay. I was still pissed, though it wasn't because I had to write this essay. 5,000 words was literally nothing to me. My brows were drawn together in anger, and I could feel the displeased frown marring my face. I kept reliving the whole encounter with Sebastian in my head, and it only fueled my fury. I was mumbling darkly to myself.

"I can't believe that asshole... B... extra essay... fucking dick..." I trailed off, glowering at the bright screen of my laptop as if it had personally insulted me.

"The guy sounds like a real fucktard," Alois remarked, and his voice traveled over from my bed. I peered over at him for a second, seeing that he was sprawled out on top of it like it was his. He had turned his head slightly to glance at me. " _'I expect an essay on respect Monday_ '. Pfft." He chuckled softly, as if slightly amused by my predicament. "Who does he think he is? Your mother?"

At the mention of her, I winced, but brushed it off and hid the pain as I turned myself away from my laptop. "He told me I was unintelligent. _Me_. I was valedictorian, for fuck's sake! He's the only instructor in my entire life that has had a single negative thing to say about me."

"Maybe he's just a douche," Alois said thoughtfully as he rolled his body until he was resting on his stomach, his heart-shaped face burying into one of my pillows. "After all, the guy's making you write an extra essay just because you called him by his first name. Is he even allowed to do that?" His lilting voice was muffled by the cushion, and I was amazed at my ability to understand what he was saying.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, but at this point, I didn't care. I never back down from a challenge once it has been issued. Shaking my head, I leaned back in my chair, my head lolling back. Which made the memory of my body's response to the argument - and his scent - to flash into mind. Rejecting it as fast as it had entered my brain, I bit into my bottom lip and worried it between my teeth. "If I don't get an A-fucking-plus on this essay, I will scream. I'm actually putting effort into it." I feel like Sebastian should have been impressed with all the effort I put into _not_ putting anything but the bare minimum of effort into the first essay.

"I thought you put effort into your last one," Alois said with a snort. The sarcastic bastard. "An essay on how literature mumbo-jumbo ties into reality or whatever? There's no way I could've written that shit. Especially since it had to be 10, 000 words long."

This brought a derisive snort from me, and I rolled my eyes. "You know I don't waste my energy on trivialities like essays. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks that 5,000 words is anything but cake to me. If he was as smart as he acted, he would have made it longer than the first fucking essay." As if being forced to write an essay that was due the following Monday would teach me a lesson in the first fucking place. Sebastian really was fucking retarded if he thought his 'punishment' bothered me.

The blond bitch shrugged his shoulders at me, as if dismissing my feelings. "I think you're making this a big deal for no reason, Ciel. You still got a B on it. Hell, in high school, I barely passed with C's."

I could feel my brow twitch in irritation, but I bit my tongue to refrain from saying something cruel. The little whore would probably like it anyway. It was always harder to control myself when dealing with Alois, though, so my words came out with more bite than I had intended. "You're not a fucking idiot, you just didn't apply yourself." Okay, that might have been stretching it. I knew he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, and I'm sure he knew that too. He probably just didn't give a shit. "And you know very well that I have only ever gotten A's. So yes, to me, _it is a big deal_."

I watched Alois as he sat up and rolled his big baby blues at me. Bitch. "I know you try to be the best in everything, but it's just literature. Is one B really that bad?"

"Fuck you, fag. You know it is," I hissed in response.

Just literature? How could he be so flippant about something that was so important to me? Was it really not that big of a deal. I could feel the corners of my mouth turning down in a frown, and my bottom lip jutted out. I crossed my arms over my chest like a petulant child. I was pouting like a 5 year old who hadn't gotten their way, but I didn't care. It was a big deal; the B really bothered me, as had Sebastian's attitude towards me. This is why I fucking hated people. I wasn't some entitled prissy bitch; why put effort into anything when it all comes so naturally? He had challenged me, though, so now I was going to be wasting my energy trying to secure A's in his stupid lit class. I wasn't going to fail, and there was no way I would give up. I could feel the need for revenge simmering just below the surface of my displeasure.

"I wish there was some way to get back at him, in a way that would satisfy me immensely." I snuggled deeper into my chair and sighed, not really considering anything as an act of vengeance.

Alois was studying his perfectly manicured fingernails, his head tilted slightly to the side as he inquired, "So what are you going to do about it? You can't let this creep get away with it." I could see his azure eyes widen in delight as a thought popped into his head. "Ooh, I know!" He turned to look at me, his expression slightly manic in his excitement. "Remember what you used to do to those fags in high school that always tried to bully you?"

Oh, I certainly remembered those fucking heathens. Because of my delicate stature, my heart-shaped face, and my feminine-esque figure, those gaping assholes had taunted me daily. I could feel my face darkening at the memory, before I blinked and recalled what his question had actually been. Did I remember what I did to them? Of course I did; I never forget anything. I raised a brow, like Alois' inquiry was the stupidest thing I had ever heard, but my lips twitched. A small smirk was pulling at the corner of my lips, and I was fighting to keep a straight face. As I said before though, it was harder to mask my emotions with my best friend. He knew me too well anyway.

"Refresh my memory," I hummed, eyeing the blond as his smile grew even bigger, if that was possible.

"They'd call you a nerd and try to push you around, but you'd get in their heads. You'd slyly seduce them without them even realising it, and by the time they did, BAM! It was too late. They were hooked on you, _begging_ for you to be theirs, but you'd deny them and ruthlessly shove them away, doing more damage to them than they ever did to you. Why don't you do that to your professor? Seduce him, then crush him like the cockroach he is!" He thrust his fist into the air for emphasis, a look of victory overtaking his face.

"That would be quite satisfying," I admitted, tilting my head in thought. As I considered it, a smile grew on my face. This little blond angel, oh how I was blessed to have him. "Alois, you are an absolute genius." I bounded from my chair, flying at him and tackling him, our bodies flopping harshly onto the mattress. I twisted my tiny body around him, clinging tightly to him so that he had no way to escape. "I could kiss you," I announced.

"Oh, please," he giggled, his lips puckering up in preparation for the make out session of his life. Too bad that wasn't what he was getting.

I pecked the corner of his lips before I dissolved into a fit of laughter. Why had I not thought of doing just that? Probably because Sebastian seemed like the kind of guy who didn't have time for such frivolities as falling in love. Hell, he probably didn't even fuck. Not that I was one to talk.

Alois looked up at the ceiling, and I followed his gaze. I could hear the smile in his voice. "I do wonder what the sex would be like though. I don't know if he's hot or not, but just the thought of having sex with an older man who's a teacher gives me goosebumps." I could feel his body shivering in my arms as a dreamy look danced over his face. Sebastian didn't seem that much older than me, though I was 17, so maybe my perception of age was skewed. For all I knew, he was in his 30's.

I swat his arm playfully, shuddering in distaste at the idea. "Well, he's aesthetically pleasing, I suppose. But you know how I feel about people. And swapping bodily fluids." I wrinkled my nose in revulsion. Sex did not appeal to me in the least. "I never fucked my bullies, you know. Just seduced and teased them relentlessly with the prospect of getting their filthy hands on my body. Why should I go about it differently with Sebastian?" I could feel warmth spreading through me at the thought of letting him touch me, but I quickly squished the feeling. Stupid hormones.

"Because he's older and experienced," Alois murred. He squirmed out of my grasp, flipping us over so that I was on my back. He slowly crawled on top of me, as if trying to seduce me. He dragged his ass up my legs until he rested heavily on my hips. "He would know every one of your pleasure spots, and he'd hit them so well that you'd be screaming. I bet you'd love the feeling of his rock hard cock." My body wanted to respond to his breathy words, and I could feel my dick twitch as my brain ran away with my imagination. "That's why I could never do what you did. I love sex too much. If I stood up to every fag that bullied me I'd have STDs flowing out the ass." Alois' giggle was slightly manic with that statement.

I faux gagged, my face contorting into an expression of distaste. I slapped his ass sharply before bringing my hands up to grip his hips. I dug my fingers into his tender flesh, hoping to leave bruises on the pale skin. "Please don't be so vile while you're on top of me. You're going to give me limp dick," I whined. Pursing my lips in consideration, I tilted my head slightly before conceding. "I'll think about letting him touch me, though in the end I probably won't fuck him." My body seemed to be in disagreement with my mouth.

"Ooh," the blond moaned playfully, and shot a flirtatious wink at me. "Don't tease if you won't commit, baby."

My lips curled into a smirk, and I held his hips down as I bucked roughly into him. "You know I can't resist your tight ass, baby." I chuckled with a roll of my eyes. We were idiots.

Alois smiled and ground his ass down on my crotch heavily, making me shiver pleasantly. "One day you'll fuck me," he said matter-of-factly, rolling his hips again for good measure. "And you'll love it."

I purred, licking my lips at the threat. I pondered, as I often did, giving into my best friend. He was more than experienced for the both of us, and I had to admit that I enjoyed the feeling of him writhing around on my dick. I dismissed the thought just as fast; I wasn't sticking my dick into that cum-guzzling ass of his, no matter how much he wanted it. "You wish. Now get your fat ass off of me before you crush me." I wiggled underneath him, though that probably wasn't going to get him off of me any faster, and tried to escape from his clutches.

He rolled his baby blue orbs and hopped off of me, landing gracefully on my bed. The movement jostled the whole mattress, and I could feel it tremble beneath me as I sat up. "So Operation: Seduce the Professor is a go, then?"

"That would be a yes," I murred, stretching lazily and cracking my back before sliding off of the bed and heading back over to my desk. I plopped down in the comfortable office chair, my fingers finding the familiar keys and clicking away as I continued typing my essay. I picked up the pace easily, as if I hadn't stopped to roll around in my sheets with my best friend. Absentmindedly, I thought about how to go about seducing Sebastian; I had a feeling he wouldn't be an easy nut to crack. "He'll be more of a challenge than those pea-brained high school bullies, though," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. A smirk curled my lips, and I could feel excitement thrumming through my veins. "I can't wait."

That drew a giggle from Alois, and I heard him say, "I'll bring my popcorn."

Oh, I'll definitely put on a show for you. Just you wait, Sebastian. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into.

With those pleasing thoughts in mind, my fingers flew over the keyboard, and by the time I was done writing, I realised that I had written 6,539 words. At least he couldn't accuse me of being an under-achiever. I couldn't wait to hand this to him on Monday. Let the games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, as both my darling Kit and I worked very hard on it. I was going to wait to post it, but in the end we decided to get it up as soon as possible. I didn't expect for it to be this long; I was actually worried that it was going to be short. Anyway, let us know if you love it and would like to see more( we will be updating regardless). Feed us your love in the form of comments, or don't if you don't like leaving comments. We love you anyway.  
> Kisses and Love, Always Love,  
> Ritsy and Sebasuchanskitten


	2. Sebastian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening, everyone! (Or at least it is when I post this) SebasuchansKitten here, and I'm SO glad to see that many of you are enjoying the story so far! Ritsy and I have been extremely excited about this and we're overjoyed that the first chapter received so much love, so sincerely, thank you all very much. As stated before, I am portraying Sebastian (along with a few other characters) in this story, and this chapter was solely focused around him. We put in a lot of hard work into it, so I hope my representation does him justice! Enjoy!

Waking up proved to be a difficult feat. I had been dreading this day for quite a while, and I wasn't looking forward to the various new faces I would meet. None of them would make use of my time, either. They were all there because of money, not because they actually possessed the sufficient amount of brain cells that an average human being should have. No, they would all be vain and mentally compromised, two traits that I didn't have the patience to deal with.

 Hot steam hung in the air, the floating moisture slinking up my nasal passages as I took a deep, composed breath. Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed my towel from its rack, patting my body dry with the plush fabric. I made my way over to the mirror, using my hand to wipe a portion of the condensation off of the reflective surface. My stony eyes stared back at me as I did so, and I couldn't bring myself to break my gaze.

 After I deemed my body dry, I used the same towel to ruffle my dripping hair, the absorbent fabric soaking away most of the excess water. As usual, a stray piece of hair fell in the middle of my forehead, caressing the bridge of my nose and irritating me beyond words. I had been contemplating getting a haircut, for I had kept the same hairstyle since I was a young teen, and the more days that passed the more I became annoyed with it. It was short in the back, my neckline clear and bare for all to see, but it was long in the front, with tresses reaching the bottom of my jaw at its longest points. And, what positively vexed me the most, was that piece of hair that hung in my face, separate from the rest. Even an ex-lover of mine had recommended that I get it cut shorter and trim the stray section, as my hairstyle seemed a bit unprofessional for someone like me. Wanting to please him, I agreed, but I never managed to find the time to make an appointment with a hairdresser. Needless to say, my relationship with that lover ended, and I still hadn't made an appointment to fix my damned hair.

 "I must make one soon, though," I huffed to myself, my fingers desperately trying to tuck the isolated strands of hair behind my ear, my efforts proving to be futile as the hair was too short to brush back.

 After five minutes of uselessly trying to pin the piece of hair away from my forehead with no luck, I left it be and wrapped my towel around my waist, exiting my bathroom and reentering my bedroom. I padded over to my closet, opening the two doors and peering inside. I only owned five different suits, all of them being the same color: black. Once in a while, I'd wear a long grey coat and substitute a silk scarf for a tie simply to change my routine up, but I wouldn't be wearing that today. No, I would wear my normal black suit, as I would be introducing myself to new students today, and black tended to be more intimidating than grey.

 I removed one of the suits from my closet, stopping by my dresser to grab a pair of underwear. I carefully laid the suit on my bed and slid my briefs on, then began to dress. I slipped on my pristine white shirt with ease, buttoning it up quickly and straightening the sleeves. I pulled my black trousers over my hips and tightened my belt until it pressed against my bones. In a quick, graceful movement, I snatched up my silk tie and knotted it accurately around my neck, and, deciding against wearing a vest today, I completed my attire by slinking into my suit jacket.

 Fastening my watch to my wrist, I took a glance at the time and hummed in approval when I saw that it read 6:05. My first class started at 7:00 and would go until 8:15. I then had my own personal time until 9:45, which I typically took advantage of by going home to relax before my next class or by running around finishing errands. I had to return to the campus at 9:45, and would usually teach until 5:00 at the latest. I did have a few night classes, however, for those students who tended to prefer learning at night, and those were on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Instead of getting off at 5:00, I'd leave work at 9:00, and I was thankful that I only had to put up with that two days a week.

 A sudden vibration caught my ear, and I turned my head toward my bed, regarding my pulsating cellphone, its screen flashing a number. I grabbed a hold of my mobile and studied the number, my heart instantly aching as I read off the name and the numbers below it. I could ignore the call, which is what I had been doing for weeks now, but I persuaded myself against it. It was improper to run away from your problems, and even more idiotic to prolong them. I tapped the screen quickly, lifting the phone up to my ear. "Michaelis speaking."

 "Sebastian, it's been a while since you've answered my call," the voice breathed, and I could practically hear the pout in the words. My stomach tightened when he said my name, and my fingernails buried themselves deep into my palms, their sharp tips nearly slicing into my skin.

 "What do you want?"

 I could hear him sigh, the familiar sound blessing me with bittersweet nostalgia. "You know what I want. I miss you."

 I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding together as I forced myself to hold back any and all emotion. "Do not lie to me. Tell me what you truly desire."

 "I'm not lying. I still want the same thing I wanted the last time you answered. I want a second chance." The last sentence seemed to come out breathlessly, and my pupils dilated, my nostrils flaring. All too fresh, horrible memories came back to me, and I regretted answering the call.

 "Why are you having difficulties breathing?"

 The man chuckled, his tone still seeming strained. "You know I go for a run every morning before I come into the office. I called you right after I finished my run. Are you done interrogating me, Detective?"

 "Don't lie to me," I repeated, hissing like a viper. "You always had trouble waking at early hours. You are not running at six in the morning."

 "I'm a changed man, Sebastian. I've been working out every morning and every night. I've been... trying to fix my... problem."

 My nails dug deeper into my flesh, and I was sure that I was bleeding. _No, don't let this be happening again._ I sat on the side of my bed, my head dizzy and my body heated. I had hoped I was exaggerating, but I was beginning to fear that that was not the case. "I thought you stated you were finished exercising, yet you're still breathing as if from exertion." 

 "I shouldn't have called. You're obviously still angry with me, not that I blame you. I'm not asking you to trust me or believe me, I just want you to see that I'm changing."

 My blood instantly came to a boil, my eyesight transitioning into pure red vision as anger crashed over me. I remembered now why I had ignored his calls and text messages for so long, why I had commanded myself to never talk to him again. Yet now, here I sat, my entire body trembling with rage as I subjected myself to his manipulation.

 "You are being dishonest with me!" I shouted, my voice booming off the walls. "I am aware of this as are you, so I ask that you tell me the real reason why you're breathing so heavily!"

 I could hear a muffled moan on the other side of the line, followed by a harsh slap and a quiet whimper. He growled, murmured "I told you to shut the fuck up," and sighed in irritation.

  _That bastard. He's doing it again!_

 I snarled into the phone, my grip tightening around the mobile device. "You're having sex?! While you're on the _phone_ with me?!"

 "Sebastian, don't blow this out of proportion," my ex-lover said, the annoyance evident in his voice.

 "Out of proportion?!" I repeated, my voice slightly cracking and tiny droplets of water forming in my eyes. "You're confessing your feelings and claiming you're sorry, yet you are having sexual intercourse with someone else?! _And I'm blowing this out of proportion?!"_

 "You've always blown it out of proportion," he stated, his voice sounding further away. "You were always aware of my addiction. It's why you and I had sex so much. I can't control myself, and yet instead of helping me, you left me. How do you expect me to have gotten better when the only person I have ever had feelings for rejected me?"

 The tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I wouldn't allow them the pleasure of doing so. I held them in even though it pained me. This man didn't deserve an ounce of my emotion. He didn't deserve an ounce of my time. "So this is _my_ problem?! I _tried_ to help you through your addiction. I was there for your cravings and your shallow impulses, and I even offered to pay and attend counseling sessions with you. You were constantly disloyal to me, and your respect toward me was nonexistent. Yet this is somehow _my_ fault?!"

 He sighed once more. "We're getting nowhere with this. You need to calm down before we talk again, because you obviously can't see reason." He let out a breathy grunt at the end, making me cringe. I knew that sound well. He had finished. I inhaled deeply, compelling myself to regain my composure. _He doesn't deserve to know your pain, your love. You must remain strong. Remain formal._

 "You didn't change," I spoke, my words flowing calmly. "You'll never change. You'll always be the same distasteful brute who cares for nothing but his own selfish wishes, and I was smart to escape your toxic clutches while I had the chance."

 "Sebastian, please. Give me another chance."

 By now, the excess water in my eyes had dissipated, and my expression was stern. "It is not I who you must reason with. It is yourself."

 Before my ex-lover had the chance to reply, I ended the call, relieved to be free from his torment. I was disturbed soon after, however, for I took a glance at my watch and cursed to see that it was already 6:45.

 "That damn bastard kept me on the phone for forty minutes," I growled, rushing to my bathroom mirror to check that my attire was still presentable. "I knew I shouldn't have answered."

 I sprinted outside, my keys jingling in my hands as I approached my vehicle. I clicked the remote to unlock it, my car chirping and flashing its lights in a greeting. I hurriedly opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, slipping my keys into the ignition and smirking to myself when my Jaguar purred to life. On a salary like mine, many people questioned how I could afford to drive such a luxurious vehicle, considering the price for one of these would burn a major hole in most people's wallets, and mine was no different. Nevertheless, I am a very intellectual man, and I had many tricks up my sleeve to afford the luxurious lifestyle without sacrificing my entire paycheck for as long as I lived. I would never reveal my secrets, but considering the prices of Jaguars, I got mine for dirt cheap, and it was brand new when I bought it, as well.

 But even with my exotic sports car, it would be impossible to get to the university in time. It was only a fifteen minute drive on extremely lucky days, but traffic usually flooded the road, so it was routinely a thirty minute drive, sometimes forty.

 "Thirty minutes late on the first day back," I mumbled to myself, stretching my neck to look out my back window as I reversed onto the road. "What a wonderful impression I'll make. It would seem I'm starting to acquire traits from my students."

 I was fortunate that the drive only took twenty minutes, though the traffic was horrible. I hated having to put up with mindless idiots on the road before work, because my job was to teach mindless, immature "adults" for a living. Don't get me wrong, I hated people who generalised, but when you've worked at the same college for years teaching the same type of people every year, your expectations lower greatly.

 And it wasn't all bad. Once in a while I would find an exceptional student who was humble and actually cared about learning, and I would certainly praise and acknowledge them for it. Alas, this didn't happen often, which was why I never expected much from my classes, and it was also why it was exceedingly difficult to pass my course. I was one of the more demanding professors, even if I knew that over half of the people I taught were imbeciles. I wasn't afraid to admit that I was nearly impossible to please, and bearing in mind that the majority of the students I taught were accepted into the university solely because they could afford it, I was perfectly okay with that.

 I parked my car in my usual spot on the side of the building, since my classroom was positioned there. I entered in the side door, giving a brief exhale and raking my fingers through my hair as I prepared myself to make my appearance. _I'm only twenty minutes late. Today's just an introduction to the class, anyway._

 I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty though. I should have been more punctual. Opening the door, I pushed my thoughts away as I strode into the room, my posture stiff. Students had been making quiet conversation prior to my entry, but they immediately silenced upon noticing my presence. I treaded over to my desk, then turned to face my class, my eyes drifting over all of them as I spoke. "Good morning, everyone. I am Professor Michaelis, and I will be your literature instructor. You may refer to me as Mr. Michaelis or simply 'Professor.' Many of you may have chosen to take this class because it sounded elementary, and you were hoping to slack off and relax with an easy lecture in the morning.

 "This will not be the case," I informed crossly, my glaring eyes studying each and every person. "You will perform equally, if not substantially better in this class compared to the rest of your classes. You will need to read at least one-hundred pages a night from the novels I assign to meet your quotas for this class, and there will be no excuses. You are unable to make up assignments you've missed, whether they be uncompleted due to sickness or laziness. I don't care if you're sick and I don't care if it's boring; it is your responsibility to finish your assignments, regardless of the situation."

 As my eyes traveled over my students, I could tell that most of them we're intimidated, if not downright frightened. The sight pleased me; these spoiled pupils needed to learn the meaning of hard work and dedication, and if no one else would teach them, I would.

 Although my satisfaction was shattered when my eyes fell on one particular student, who seemed to be oblivious to every word I said. He had blae-colored hair, a tone that disgusted me for I assumed that it was dyed, and the act of dyeing one's hair was childish in my eyes. He seemed to have a very small framed body and he sat at the very back of the room, isolated from the rest of the class. He was staring down at a paper on his desk, his pen bobbing in his hand as it traveled over the page.

 Considering I was simply stating my expectations of this class, it was apparent to me that he was drawing, blocking out everything that I was saying. The fact that he was ignoring me angered me greatly, but I chose to wave it off. In the end, it would be his grade, and if he chose to seal his fate by wasting his time, it didn't reflect poorly on me.

 After class was dismissed, the same ill-mannered student was the last to leave, and he shot me a brief look of acknowledgement before he left the room. My eyes widened slightly at the sight of his features; as impolite as the boy had seemed, he was quite an attractive young man. His eyebrows were the same slate hue as his hair, disproving my earlier theory of hair dye, though how he was born with such an odd hair tone, I couldn't fathom. His eyes were a beautiful cerulean, as if his irises had soaked up entire oceans, stealing their beauty and claiming it as his own. When he blinked his eyes, his eyelashes fanned out in a gorgeous manner, almost like they were faux. His skin was pale and nearly colorless except for a light blush in his cheeks and his rosy lips. If not for his bratty scowl, he would have appeared female. His looks had indeed captivated me for a moment, but I shook off the feeling before I could even ponder it. His features merely surprised me, nothing more.  

 The first day had breezed by, and though I could tell that most of my students most likely wouldn't pass my class, I reminded myself to stay calm while I was teaching. It was pointless to let their choices affect me. On Tuesday, I assigned an essay, simply to test their writing abilities.

 "Before you can read, you must grasp the concept of why reading is important, and you must understand why reading is such an extravagant contribution," I explained, staring at my pupils while I paced. "Therefore, you are all going to construct an essay on the significance of famous works of literature and the impact they have on modern society. Anything less than 10,000 words will be unacceptable and it's due Thursday."

 The due date surprised many of them, and I had expected nothing less. It was meant to surprise them, to confuse them. I barely gave them any time to write their report, and I knew they felt worried and anxious about the challenge. I was looking forward to see how many of them could manage to complete my assignment thoroughly and honestly, without plagiarizing and attempting to get away with writing less than 10,000 words in hope that I wouldn't pay attention to the word count. Oh, but I would. I would count every single word they wrote; I didn't care if it would take me an extra five minutes. I never struggled with grading, and if I was going to hold my students to such high standards, I would require myself to put in the extra effort, as well.

 Wednesday was another day of explaining the significance of literature, though I kept my lecture vague as I expected my students to research the topic for their report instead of copying down my lesson. Thursday, everyone promptly turned their essays in, and I was quite surprised that I didn't have a single student miss the assignment. I had plenty of grading to do that night, which seemed to lower the small sliver of optimism I had saved for my pupils. Most of them hadn't even written 10,000 words, which significantly brought their grade down. Another portion clearly hadn't done a bit of research, and that affected their grade by a large percent, too; I wouldn't stand for made up facts that they obviously created in their mind.

 The highest grade out of all of my classes was a single B, and it was granted to a boy named Ciel Phantomhive. Though he received the best grade out of anyone, his report was equally upsetting compared to the rest of them, if not more so. For the most part, it was eloquently constructed, his reasoning supported by many impressive facts. His word choices were average; he could have easily found better replacement adjectives for the many descriptions that tended to repeat themselves. What truly made me angry was that it was apparent that he put no effort into his writing. It was evident that he was a clever young man, for the way his report was written and organised was truly magnificent and shocking; I hadn't thought I would ever read something so polished from a student at the university. However, as much praise as I could spout, there was an equal amount of distaste I had for it. Someone with a phenomenal writing ability like Ciel's should have at least researched the topic, but unfortunately Mr. Phantomhive did not. I could tell instantly that he lied and guessed throughout the entire report, even though his ideas were presented correctly. He wrote exactly 10,000 words, another example of what someone of his intelligence should never do.

 "He's quite a smartass," I murmured, rolling my eyes. "It's a shame that his attitude will cost him a perfect grade."

 I scribbled a 'B' onto the front of his report and laid down to go to sleep, grateful that I didn't need to read any more terrible essays. Friday morning I handed back their papers, aware that many of my pupils would cringe at the horrible grades they received. I was startled to find that Ciel Phantomhive was the boy who had been barely paying attention in my class, and I nearly snorted when I dropped his paper in front of him. Had I been a corrupt professor, he would have gotten a lower grade simply because it was impossible to capture his attention during my lectures. But, because I obliged to stay honest and free of judgement, I assured myself that he was graded appropriately, even if he did piss me off.

  I spent the rest of class informing them that we would be reading an actual novel on Monday, and to be prepared to focus and listen. They would need to write a few essays as they completed reading sections of the book, so I stressed the absolute importance of keeping their attention solely directed on the novel.

 "And as a little pointer for next time," I said, my eyes staring into the crowd. "I suggest doing research for the topic you're writing about. This is not the first time you've needed to gather multiple resources for your reports, so let's not waste time reviewing proper analyzing skills, yes?"

 Many students nodded and the bell rang overhead, prompting me to declare "Class dismissed." They all began filing out of the room, and I sighed as I approached my desk, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear. Irritation pricked at me when the strand fell back to its original position, convincing me that I did indeed need to make an appointment with a hairdresser as soon as possible. I started to scrape up the essays on my desk that had yet to be returned to my other classes, intending on bringing them with me while I left to run errands during my current free time.

 "Ah, excuse me, Professor Michaelis. I have a question regarding the essay."

 My movements froze when I heard the voice, and I regarded the speaker who was gazing at me shyly. _Ciel Phantomhive? What the hell could he want?_ I tensed up and straightened my posture, a single eyebrow raising as my eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. "Is there something you require, Mr. Phantomhive?"

 A flicker of annoyance briefly flashed across his face before he lowered his head, his eyelashes fluttering and his teeth innocently sinking into his bottom lip. "Well, I was wondering, um, why you gave me a B? I've only ever gotten A+ throughout all of my schooling. Was there something wrong with my essay?"

 I determined what his goal was at once, his actions both disturbing and repulsive. It was quite clear that he was acting as if he was shy and highly intimidated of me, which I knew wasn't the case. A student who had mustered up enough nerve to write exactly 10,000 words and lie -- in a very well done manner, though his facts still remained false -- was certainly not someone who would be shy and nervous to merely approach me. I refused to play his game; I wouldn't grant him the satisfaction of believing that he was an expert at acting.

 I just hummed pleasantly, as if I was thinking over what he asked. "I'm certain you already know why you received a B."

 The immense surprise that overcame his features was delightful, and I struggled to hide a smile when I noticed how taken aback the answer left him. Knowing that my reply slapped his fake innocence away was gratifying, and the joy that I experienced was absolute bliss when he looked at me in pure confusion. "I beg your pardon? I really don't understand why, Sir?"

 I could no longer mask my smile, and I permitted it to adorn my lips, my attention returning to the papers on my desk as I continued to organise them. "Well I suppose if you're going to act as poorly as your essay was transcribed, then I will tell you; there was no effort put into it whatsoever."

 Had I not been an expert at controlling my emotions, I would have chuckled with giddiness from the sight of his expression. From my peripheral vision, I could see his lips contort into a frown, his eyes chilling into an icy glare. His bony fingers crushed the papers in his grip, and I heard him attempt to calm himself before he continued.

 "And what, pray tell, led you to that conclusion? I have always been praised for the effort that I have put into every essay that I have ever written." 

 Sudden rage bolted through every crevice inside of me, caressing my bones and prodding at my innards. What was this dullard doing? He was perfectly aware of why he received a B, or maybe he wasn't. Perhaps he was mentally challenged to the point of being unable to recognise his own mistakes, which made my anger pulsate with a greater strength. If he truly was unable to realise that what he had done was improper and childish, then I would scold myself for granting him a B. My eyes were ablaze with exasperation, and as I glared daggers at the young man who perturbed me beyond belief, it took all I had to keep my voice steady and poised. "Then perhaps you were granted admission to this university thanks to wealth, rather than intelligence. I am not blind, Mr. Phantomhive, I have taught many conceited and over-confident students in the past, students who believed they could pass my class by leaning back and simply breathing in the scent of roses.

 "You did no research, you did no reading, nor did you even look into the deep recesses of your mind to find simple synonyms to the overused adjectives you graced your essay with. You will not receive an A for your nonexistent efforts, and you certainly won't pass my class."

 His pale face shaded into a dark red from the sting of my words, and I observed his knuckles lighten into a harrowing white while he clenched his fists. Again, the sight of his distress may have pleased me, but not now. Not when I was experiencing the same intense wrath.

 "I am more intelligent than 75% of the students here, these pretentious 'scholars' who think that their father's money will buy them everything they desire. The mere suggestion that I would ride my father's coattails to get into this grandiose university is laughable."

 I could have snorted like a swine upon listening to his proclamation. He was more intelligent than 75% of the students here? That was a possibility. Over half of the student population certainly didn't acquire the opportunity to attend this school because of their grades, and although this boy seemed juvenile and blind to reality, he was fairly clever. However, I refused to believe that he had no financial help from his parents to aid him in his admission. I had instructed at this university for years, and I was fully mindful of the slim chances one had at being accepted into this university due to intellectual capacity alone; no, the Dean much rather preferred to have students who came from a wealthy background. I was positive that this student was just like all the others; not completely devoid of brain matter, but blessed with countless opportunities because of his wealth.

 I was confident, of course, until he pulled a stunt that none of my students had ever dared to do.

 He circled around my desk, his graceful legs practically floating as he did so. I watched his every move with alert pupils, concerned with the uncertainty of what he was planning. He bravely approached me, his chest coming in contact with mine as he pressed his body into me, his ocean-toned orbs courageously staring into my irises. "I will prove you wrong, Professor. You will eat your words."

 His bony frame remained still against mine, though I could feel him trying to calm his erratic breathing. His cheeks were still flushed from his outburst, and realisation of what a terrible position he put himself in seemed to slowly seep into his soul. As a man who stood firmly at 6'1", I appeared like a looming threat over the young man, whose height only further explained his child-like behavior. I had seen many adolescents who were much taller than he, and, though it was unfair to judge based on such circumstances, it stood out as another mark towards his immaturity. "Do you honestly think that threatening me will get you anywhere? If you believe that you are so intelligent, start acting like it. I am not afraid of you, nor of your claim to make me eat my words; if you truly think that what you say will bother me, you need to reevaluate your strategy. I am not here to waste time, and I will not allow you to waste my time, either. Whether you were admitted due to wealth or intelligence, you are here to pass my class. So, I suggest that you seriously rethink your routine of arrogance and laziness, because you will never see another A again until you do."

 "Threaten you?" His ocean orbs lit up in surprise and he started laughing uncontrollably, nearly sounding like a victim of insanity. "Professor, if I were threatening you, it would be so much more than making you eat your words."

 I couldn't even begin to understand what tainted this boy's mind. First he had the bravery to confront and berate me when he was the one liable for the grade he received, and then he decides to spout out empty threats while laughing like a maniac? This was a new low that I had never experienced before during all my years of teaching, and I certainly hoped that many young adults who shared the same intelligence didn't also bear the madness that this boy possessed. The Phantomhive lad took a step away from me, finally breaking the contact our bodies had shared; the contact that made me feel an odd sense of edginess.

 "All right, I'll accept your challenge, Sir," he said confidently, his egotistical smile enhancing his smug words. "I'll pass your class, and I will do it with straight A's. This B is merely a minor setback. I rarely waste my effort, but I think I can make an exception in this case. I won't be wasting your time, I can promise you that. Let me show you how intelligent I truly am, _Sebastian."_

 I could feel my abdomen wretch as his tone punctured through my body, the way my name dripped from his mouth taking me back to a much darker time, a situation where I had actually believed that my heart had disintegrated into multiple sharp, bleeding pieces.

_"Speechless, eh, Sebastian? Don't just stand there. Why don't you get involved and make this_ really _interesting?"_

 No, I shook that memory away. This student was nothing like him, and if he was, it didn't matter; I had bitter feelings toward this Phantomhive boy, anyway. I didn't bother to conceal the rage in my face as I spoke. "You will refer to me as Mr. Michaelis. For someone making such drastic promises, I would think you'd be aware of the term 'professionalism.'"

 Amusement danced across his face when he heard me snap. "Oh, did that get under your skin, _Sebastian?_ I'll have to keep that in mind then."

 The fury that flowed through me was beginning to become dangerous. I didn't know what was with this young man or what his game was, but it was starting to drive me to a point that I hadn't visited in a while, and I struggled to keep my convulsing under control. Oh, how I wanted to spread my long fingers and slide them into the soft, blae locks on his head, then close them around the strands in an agonizingly painful grip and smash his complacent skull into the wall. After all, there was no gift more loving than that of blunt force trauma. Did I secretly have anger issues? Perhaps. But they weren't considered 'issues' if I knew how to deal with them.

 Sighing, I permitted a sly smile to adorn my lips. If I couldn't beat him down, I could surely silence him. "So it is courtesy you lack rather than professionalism. Very well, since you seem to be new to the concept of proper mannerisms, I'm assigning you a 5,000 word essay on the importance of respect and consideration, due Monday morning the second class starts. I expect you to use adjectives that aren't equivalent to an eight-year-old's vocabulary, and bearing in mind that you are so blind to the subject of respect, I suggest you do some actual research this time."  

 Phantomhive's grin slowly fell into a frown, one of his eyebrows slightly perking up. I could tell his disappointment was faux, but I didn't mind. Anything to get him to shut the fuck up. "Fine. I'll be sure to make an effort this time, Sir, if that's what you want."

 An exhale of genuine solace slipped through my parted lips, and I redirected my attention back to the papers on my desk. I had gained control over my anger, and quieting the boy's rant played a large part in alleviating my vexation. "Good. Other than that insignificant conversation, do you require any more of my valuable time, or are you simply going to stand here and embarrass yourself further?"

 My student scoffed and scrunched up his report further before dropping it into the recycling bin. He waved his hand casually. "No, Sir. I'm done wasting your time. My apologies." He readjusted his backpack, and then walked off.

 "What a troubling boy," I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief. It was shocking how easily he had infuriated me, over something so simple, no less. I did, however, lift a pondering eyebrow when I looked down at the recycling bin. As much as I hated to admit it at this point, his essay was still one of the best I had ever read. And, despite wanting to forget the fresh confrontation, I couldn't allow a written piece that captured my attention go to waste.

 "It is a little torn, though," I remarked as I lifted it out of the recycling bin, my fingers brushing along the indented creases. "I'll have to make a new copy of it."

 I took a single step toward the door, but halted when I felt uncomfortable. Looking down, I noticed that I was immensely turned on, and my eyes widened at the discovery. Why didn't I notice this earlier? Probably because I had an overbearing student shoving himself in my face. I was too old to experience sudden erections, nevertheless, and I was positive that even though he pressed his body against mine, that simple action wasn't enough to get my adrenaline pumping.

 Or was it?

 My heart palpitated and my palms felt peculiarly clammy, and, of course, the problem between my legs was throbbing with fervor. This was a sensation I hadn't went through in quite a long time, and I deduced that my arousal must have been brought on by the intensity of our argument; ferocity had always been a weakness for me, and the Phantomhive lad was practically oozing with it.

 I loosened my belt to make my pants a bit baggier; the last thing I needed was a staff member to discover my protuberance. My slacks now hung a bit more freely on my hips, and I sighed when my uneasiness decreased. Next, I had to try to walk correctly as if nothing was bothering me, when, in all actuality, it seemed to be getting worse.

  _Take deep breaths,_ _Michaelis,_ I instructed myself. _It will go away soon._

 I managed to make my way to the secretary's office, where the copy machine was located. The dean's office was positioned right next to it, though the door was typically closed and today was no exception. I calmly strode into the office and over to the copy machine, my fingers smoothing out the wrinkled papers. The secretary visibly perked up at my entrance, and she leaned forward so her breasts pushed against her desk. "Sebastian, good morning! What's that?"

 The secretary of our university, Angela Blanc, had attended college with me, and she happened to be the one who showed me around the campus and helped me find my classes when I had first arrived. I appreciated her help, but was a bit rude to her; in my younger days, being respectful was the least of my concerns. She stuck to me like glue throughout our college years together, and she even helped me acquire my job at the university, due to the dean being her half-brother. I was grateful for her consistent assistance all these years, yet I wished she would wear shirts that provided a bit more coverage, and cease with her incessant flirting. But, as a gentleman should do in such situations, I simply smiled professionally at her. "Good morning, Ms. Blanc. Oh, this?" My eyesight flickered to the paper before returning back to her gaze. "This is a report one of my students wrote. I'm copying it for reference."

 She flashed a bright grin, her eyelids closing as she tilted her head to the side. "Oh, is it a good or a bad one? I know many professors here like to keep the bad ones to show future students what not to do." She laughed at her comment, for she found it highly amusing, but I frowned. As strict and hard to please as I was, I didn't prefer embarrassing my students. Albeit they were self-absorbed, they were still young adults, and they still had their own problems, if not very many. Even the most spoiled souls confronted their own demons, and whether big or small, they were still problems. I didn't want to be the one responsible for causing immense insecurity in a student by waving their essay around to the world, stating "You mustn't do what this person did; their essay was horrible." That was wrong. Every essay had their own positivities and unique perks, therefore I would never put a student through the torment of claiming that their writing was an example of what not to do.

 I sent a dazzling smirk her way, hoping it would hush her ridiculousness. Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I started the copier. "Actually, it is quite impressive. I may even save it in my own records for future reading."

 My actions produced an undesirable response, however, when Angela blushed like a young school girl, her grin turning seductive as she adjusted herself in her chair. "Is that so?" She giggled, the squeaks sending shivers down my spine. "Ah, Sebastian. I do have another question for you."

 Damn. I knew I'd hear that eventually. I focused my attention on the machine in hopes of discouraging her from continuing. "Mm. Really?"

 She frowned briefly, as if she had expected me to ignore her. She hid her displeasure well, nonetheless, for she smiled shyly to conceal her nervousness. "Yes. I know we've discussed this before, but... If you would please reconsider going out to dinner with me. I'd make it worth your while..."

 This wasn't the first time she had asked me, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time I denied her. She had a crush on me when we were still students, as well, but I had brushed it off as a temporary interest. Alas, this interest continued into our adult life, and to this day I was still unable to shake her away. "I apologise, Ms. Blanc, but I'm afraid my schedule is very tight, with classes being back in session and all. I'll barely have enough time to breathe," I said, glancing at her as I chuckled light-heartedly.

 Angela's face drooped in disappointment. "Surely dining for an hour or so won't eat up too much of your time? It's only one meal, Sebastian."

 "I don't usually eat dinner, I'm afraid," I confessed. The machine finished printing the copy of the report, and I grabbed the new crisp papers, tapping them against the edge of the machine to straighten them out. "I have many papers to grade and various assignments to plan. Unfortunately this job leaves me little time to consume meals."

 She sighed and pursed her lips, her mind racing, trying to think of another plan of attack. I treaded over to her desk and took the stapler that sat on its surface. I stapled the papers together and shot her a tiny smile. "I do appreciate your proposition, Ms. Blanc. If I truly had the time to spare I would consider it."

 Her face lit up with hopefulness once more and she sweetly placed her hand on my arm. "Come out with me during the next day off we all have, then."

 I cringed inside at the gesture. By now, I was used to her persistence, though it never became less annoying. I didn't wish to bark at her, but a piece of me would enjoy shaking her senseless until she quit asking me her absurd questions. I slapped a forceful grin on my face, trying to muster up the last bit of civility I possessed; I didn't need another repeat of the heated exchange earlier. "I will contemplate the offer."

 Angela's smile instantly transformed into a scowl. "Honestly, Sebastian. How much longer do you need to think it over? I've been asking you since we were college students. You must have had enough time to 'contemplate' it."

 I could feel a vein twitch in my forehead in response to my brewing anger. This conversation had continued long enough. "Ms. Blanc, please. I am politely refusing your invitation as of now. I was busy as a college student, and I am occupied now. As a secretary, you of all people should understand that. Have I made my rejection clearer?"

 My voice came out a bit sharper than I had intended, but she got the hint. She removed her hand and defensively folded her arms across her chest. "Fine, fine. I apologise."

  "Thank you," I breathed, my gratitude couldn't be more perceptible. "Do try to have a nice day." I briskly walked out of the office, wanting to get as far away from the secretary as possible.

 "'Busy'," I heard her snort as I made my exit. "That excuse is beginning to wear thin."

 I shook my head, continuing my strides. _Your shirts are wearing thinner by the day, as well._

 I proceeded to exit the building and climb into my sports car, the exotic leather caressing my body as I did so. Glancing down at my crotch, I noticed that the exchange with Angela had caused my problem to die down quite a bit, but it was still present and twitching with avidity. Complete confusion bathed over my being. What was happening to me? I hadn't desired sexual attention -- or any attention for that matter -- for quite a while. This wasn't natural for me. 

 "Perhaps I just need to get some rest," I supposed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I do feel a bit fatigued."

 I decided to speed home so I could lie down for a while before my next class, looking forward to the comfort of my velvety sheets and soft pillow. When I finally arrived at my abode and plopped down into my bed, however, my brain transitioned through many vivid thoughts. I reviewed what happened with the Phantomhive boy this morning, recalling how his features had contorted in rage when I insulted his intelligence. The way he pressed his body against mine and stared up at me with his challenging eyes, letting my name roll off his tongue as if it were a delicacy. I clenched my fists when I felt my fury that I had experienced earlier reenter my system. How I would love to see those daring eyes become lidded with weakness, hear that lewd mouth spouting desperate pleads instead of intolerable remarks.

 "Oh!" I let out a groan when I felt my dick tremble from a powerful spasm. I was suddenly disgusted with myself. Did that thought really spark arousal in me? I refused to believe that I had an attraction to the feeble-minded boy, but if it wasn't an attraction to him, then I was purely infatuated with the thought of being sadistic. Neither possibilities pleased me. Whatever happened to cause my spontaneous lust managed to do one hell of a job, for the throbbing desire was now unbearable.

 I unfastened my constraining trousers, my hand diving into my underwear and grabbing a hold of my dick. I pulled my erection out, glad to be able to free it from its constraints. I was unsure of what to do, as I hadn't had sex in months, and I hadn't masturbated in years. I found that the thought of touching myself sensually was sickening, and since I tried to be a professional in everything that I did, I had refused to indulge in self-pleasure since I was a teen. My problem was too severe to ignore, though, so I found myself slowly stroking up and down my shaft, slight tingles prickling my skin.

 I tried to think of women, beautiful and busty with their long hair flowing down their bare backs. When the thought had done nothing for me, -- rather, deadened my liveliness entirely, I was uncertain of what to do. I tried to focus on memories of my ex-lover, but that seemed to only cause me pain. And then, directly after, Ciel Phantomhive's appearance flashed in my mind, and my attention automatically locked onto it. I imagined his cerulean irises gazing up at me submissively, my name repeatedly being gasped from his delicious lips. His cheeks would be flushed a light pink, his mouth would be open and begging for more...

 My fingers tightened around my shaft and jerked roughly, my imagination running wild. I could see his legs spread wide in front of me, his puckered entrance quivering with excitement. His tight ass would be grasped and slapped multiple times by my large hands, my fingers traveling across every inch of flesh on his body. His tantalizing tongue would lap up every drop of essence that fell from my dick, and I shivered as my thumb brushed along the head of my cock in a teasing manner. He would moan my name, the sound absolutely glorious. He would throw his head back in immense pleasure as my dick slammed inside of his sensitive hole, his muscles twitching and contracting as I tore his body apart.

 My hand became drenched in precum and I used it for lubrication, my talented fingers massaging every spot with precision. _Oh, Ciel. I would effortlessly bring you to your knees and soak in your whimpers and moans. I would fuck your mouth until you bathed in a pool of your own saliva and was completely breathless. I'd bite and scratch your flesh, marking you as mine alone. You want a challenge? I'll give you a challenge. My dick will slap that smug grin off your face and pound into you senselessly._

 I gasped and thrust my hips up violently, my erection bouncing in my grip. My slender hands squeezed and yanked on my cock faster, my impending climax getting closer with each stroke. I pictured Ciel sprawled underneath me, his fingers gripping my headboard in desperation. His body would rock back and forth as I slammed myself deep inside of him, my dick stretching out every inch of his insides. His hair would be in a disarray, stuck to his damp forehead, his beautiful body slick with perspiration. _“Sebastian!"_ I could hear him cry, and I was destroyed.

 Copious amounts of cum burst from my dick, the liquid ribbons splashing onto my bedsheets and abdomen. I gasped and slightly arched my back as tingling sensations frolicked down my spine, my skin tensing from the pleasure. It had been so long since I experienced this amazing feeling, and I certainly savored the moment.

 Once my satisfaction began to drift away and my thinking became clearer, though, the repulsion that washed over me was overpowering. Not only did I touch myself in a revolting manner, I had fantasized about a student while doing so, and that was unacceptable.

 "I can't believe I allowed myself to get so weak that I gave in to such hysterical desires," I muttered, my index and middle fingers rubbing circles on my temples. Porn stars, my ex-lover, Angela Blanc. Anybody would have been a better topic for fantasizing, anybody but a student. Anybody but Ciel Phantomhive.

 I had studied psychology for a few years, and I was aware of how the human mind worked. Everybody thought about inappropriate things once in a while, inappropriate actions that they should never commit, but can't help to think about. That was the difference between a psychopath and a normal person, right? One of them may have possibly thought about committing a violent act, and the other actually acted upon it. It was normal to ponder odd situations sometimes, and this was one of them. I did indeed fantasize about a student, but it was in a moment of pure weakness. Due to going a long period without sexual attention, it wasn't a surprise that some of my thoughts were... unique. I was positive, though, that it was a once in a lifetime occurrence, and I would never allow it to happen again. 

 I cleaned myself up and fixed my attire before I headed back to the university, trying to douse my mind with optimism instead of thoughts of what I had done. It was Friday, and that meant that I had an entire weekend to relax and possibly drink my troubles away. Monday I would grade the boy's essay, and everything would be normal.

 At least I hoped so.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so concludes the second chapter!   
> We really hope you enjoyed it, and as always, kudos and comments are appreciated!   
> The third chapter will be posted soon!  
> With love and copious amounts of kisses, Kit & Ritsy. ^-^


	3. Chapter 3: Ciel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. Firstly, let's rejoice with the posting of this chapter. I know, it's been several months. On the plus side, it's fucking long as shit, so it should hopefully be satisfactory compensation.  
> Now, I rant. This chapter took so long to write because, one, it's fucking gargantuan. Literally the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire fucking life. Two, I have been having technical difficulties with my laptop. It refuses to connect to the Internet when the connection is available and I'm at a loss for what to do. To write this, I had to use my laptop, move to my mother's laptop, email it to my Kit, and she was going to post it from her tablet, but she was also suffering from technical difficulties. I can honestly say that I hate her fucking tablet more than you could ever hate an inanimate object.  
> Speaking of Kitten, everyone had better show her a fuck ton of love and appreciation, because without her this chapter would never be done. Because it is so lengthy, I needed her assistance in writing it. So, if you notice that the writing has suddenly gotten better in spots, that would be thanks to her. I honestly could not love and appreciate her any more than I already do, and then she goes and helps me out and makes that appreciation reach beyond maximum.  
> Needless to say, we are both so fucking happy to be done with this chapter. I'm never writing something so huge ever again. I would hate this chapter if it wasn't magnificent.  
> Anyway, little doves and sweet kittens, please enjoy.

The thrum of the monitor, and the clicking of keys, normally sounds that I find pleasing, are slowly driving me to the brink of insanity. I swear that I must have tampered with my essay a thousand times now, trying to perfect it. Maybe I was obsessed, but I wanted that fucking A+, even if it killed me. I was glaring at my computer screen in contempt, frustration building to a crescendo. Three sharp knocks sound at my door, but I don't bother turning around. It's probably some servant, coming to pester me about tea or some other bullshit. I continue clicking away at the keys, a sigh dancing on my lips.

"Enter," is all I say in acknowledgement to whatever imbecile is standing behind my door, daring to bother me. The soft click and air displacing as the door opens and shuts with a muted fastening of the closing mechanism are the only things that alert me to the presence of another in my room. I'm too absorbed in my essay to turn or offer any further recognition to the person.

"Mr. Phantomhive," the person says, and I can feel my lungs sucking in air, a jolt of shock running through me. I'd recognize that tantalizingly low, liquid velvet voice anywhere. I spin my chair so fast that I almost tumble out of it in my haste to confirm my suspicions. Sebastian is standing in front of my door, his posture perfect and rigid. His dark hair frames his angular pale face perfectly, but the expression he has doesn't seem quite right. Something is a little off, but I can't put my finger on it.

"P-professor," I stutter, something that only happens when I'm anxious or nervous, a damnable show of weakness that I can't control. I pause for a moment to collect myself, letting my words flow smoothly. "What are you doing here?" How he found out where I lived, or how he even managed to get into my house with all the guards that we had milling about, I didn't know, and frankly, I wasn't all that concerned about it.

"We need to have a discussion about your essay," he states simply. I glance down at his large hands, and he's wringing them together, appearing quite fidgety. My orbs look back up at his face, and I realise that he's staring at me with something dark swirling in those vermillion depths. I don't know why he's looking at me that way, but it sure as hell makes my stomach coil with nerves.

I stand up from my office chair quickly, fighting the urge to try and flee, instead waving him over as I swallow hard. "Ah, of course. I have it right here." I stop myself from adding the fact that I haven't been able to stop working on it.

"Oh, do you now?" Sebastian says with a smile, though it looks strained, more like a twitching of the lips rather than an actual smile. "I suppose you wouldn't mind if I take a look at it, then?" He slowly approaches my desk, his body moving fluidly, like a predator stalking its prey, and I feel an uncomfortable shiver crawl up my spine.

"S-sure, I could use your imput," I say complacently, fighting off my stutter and worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. He makes his way over to my desk with a confident stride, his eyes burning into me one last time before he sits and turns his attention onto my essay. I uncomfortably shift my weight from foot to foot, a tiny bit of relief at finally having his eyes off of me. I move to stand behind him, leaning forward slightly to look over his shoulder as he reads, and sneakily inhaling his scent to try and relax my frazzled nerves. I can see his hands tighten into fists just as I'm starting to relax, his knuckles turning whiter than his already alabaster skin from the sheer force with which he was clenching.

Leaning his head down slightly, his voice takes on a cold tone as he asks, "Is this a joke?" I blink, shock hitting me, and I jerk back, taking a step away from the office chair.

I can feel the confusion twisting my features. "I beg your pardon?" My response is breathy and squeaky, colored with puzzlement.

Faster than my eyes can process, he's out of the chair and on his feet, quick as lightning, his body spinning agilely so that he is towering over me and staring down at me. The heat from his eyes scalds my skin, and I can feel my body shrinking down, as if I could melt into the floor and disappear. Sebastian is grinding his teeth, his sanguine orbs shooting fire down my spine, and his canine teeth, resembling fangs, glint menacingly in the light of my room.

"This is what you've written me? You expect me to grade this ludicrous thing?" His voice is dangerously soft, chilling me to my core, and fear coils in my stomach, mixing with a feeling I can't properly figure out. I stumble away from him, only able to take three steps back before my legs become absolute jello, threatening to give way at any moment and forcing me to lock my knees. My heart races, ready to jump out of my chest, and I swallow hard.

"I-I..." I stutter, my arms curling around my waist as if to protect me. My gaze averts, and I stare at the ground, as if searching for a speck of dust. "Is it not good enough?" My voice comes out as a whisper, my throat tightening in pain. The idea that the essay isn't up to par after working so hard on it makes my heart squeeze with self-loathing.

"Is it not good enough?" Sebastian mimics me, his liquid velvet voice raising a few octaves into a falsetto tone. He laughs heartily, practically madly, making my eyes glance up at his expression. I can see his eyes dancing with mirth, flashing with insanity. His voice comes out as sharp and harsh as glass. "This is an abomination!"

His large hands fly out and hit me in the chest, flinging my dainty body into the air. I land on my bed with a plop, the wind knocked out of me. My lungs burn and seize until I finally gasp in a hoarse breath. I drag in ragged breath after ragged breath, my face a mask of shock as I lift my head up to look at him. For some strange fucking reason, being tossed around like a rag doll made my dick throb to life, and I squirmed uncomfortably at my arousal.

"I apologize," I try to say clearly, though it just comes out as a raspy whisper. His dark chuckle sends pleasing shivers dancing up and down my spine.

"Your apology is not accepted, nor will it ever be." He takes a step towards the bed, a calming release of air leaving his parted lips. I watch him intently as his suit jacket is unbuttoned and slid from his shoulders, landing on the floor with a muffled flop. His long, elegant fingers loosen his tie, which soon joins the discarded jacket. His large hand ruffles through his ebony locks, and I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as his mouth quirks into a malicious mockery of his trademark smirk. "No matter. You will be punished for your incompetence." Sick anticipation courses through my veins as I lean up on my elbows, my torso lifting from the mattress so that I can see his full form. My dick is fully erect, pressing against my pants quite painfully, and my cheeks burn pink with my arousal. My blue orbs roam over his chest, glimpsing his taut muscles through his form-fitting dress shirt.

My mouth waters, and I bite down harder into my bottom lip, my chest rising and falling as my breathing quickens. "And how will you punish me, Professor?" I purr, swallowing and smothering a needing moan. Sebastian slowly glides over to my bed, taking far too long for my liking, but I don't say a word about it. He's completely in charge, and I have no qualms to submitting to him, and he sure as hell knows it. His smirk becomes a taunting grin, his canines sharp and flashing, fang-like as his voice wraps around me like smothering velvet. "

I'm sure you're very eager to find out."

His pale hand reaches forward, long digits curling around one of my slim ankles. He squeezes, almost painfully hard, before using it to pull my body towards his. My elbows slip out from under me, and my back hits the mattress. He stops pulling when my ass is dangling freely over the edge of the bed, before flipping my over easily. I let out a soft sound as my stomach lands on the firm cushion, my dick rubbing into it and causing delicious friction. By now my breathing is uneven and shallow, my bottom lip swollen and red from abuse. I can feel his cold hand pressing into my lower spine, pushing me down into the bed and preventing me from moving. Sebastian's free hand begins removing my tight pants agonizingly slowly, his fingertips dancing over the smooth skin of my thighs, dipping between them as the rough denim fabric finally releases my confined legs. My body quivers, skin tingling with electricity as my breath catches in my throat at the feel of his fingers on my flesh.

I let a heavy breath ghost past my lips, almost sounding like a strangled moan, and I hear myself beg, "Please."

With one hand still compressing my spine, the other no longer occupied with the task of removing my trousers, sneaks into my boxers, skin grazing skin, before they too are yanked down carelessly.

"Naughty boys don't deserve pleasure," he scolds in his most professor-like voice, my body tensing at the sound. I see the shadow of his arm raising up over me threateningly. I'm gasping for breath, my bottom lip being worried with renewed fervor, and I glance back at him through the corners of my eyes. I know what's coming, and anticipation and fear tangle and dance in my lower stomach, doing nothing to tame my arousal. It looms in the air for a moment more before he murmurs, "only pain." His hand whooshes through the air, coming down sharply on my ass, leaving a horrid sting on my skin. My body jerks, a dull throbbing radiating from my lower spine as the movement causes the palm of his hand to dig harder into my flesh. My lips part and I let out a mix between a scream and a keening moan, the pain quickly translating to pleasure as I toss my head back. If I were in a right state of mind, I'd berate myself for showing such masochistic tendencies.

Even still, though my ass smarts from the spank, I find myself begging, my voice taking on a whimpering tone. "More. Punish me." His large hand shoves harder into my spine, pushing me deeper into the mattress as if making sure that I can't get away. As if I wanted to. My hot cheek rubs harshly against my comforter, and I'm given no reprieve as he smacks my ass again and again, getting harsher with each slap. Each strike draws a wrenching scream from me, ripping through my throat and leaving my vocal cords feeling raw with overuse. By now, I'm sure my ass is scarlet, with unsightly welts, as proof of the abuse. Gargled moans are dancing on my tongue, and the coppery taste of blood taints my mouth as I've bitten my lip over and over. Too soon, the ass beating is not enough, and my dick throbs with need. A whine rises in my chest, and my hips wiggle as best as they can, held down as I am.

He only graces me with one more harsh blow, before he moves both hands to the smarting mounds. "It would seem that you're starting to enjoy your punishment," he hums, as if in thought. His large hands knead the meaty flesh of my ass cheeks, before his fingers easily spread them apart, exposing my tight, twitching entrance. "Perhaps a drier form of agony will teach you a lesson." Sebastian's index finger prods lightly against my hole. Without warning, his finger forces its way in, violently burying it completely. My head shoots up off of the bed, the pain so intense that my vision momentarily swims. I feel as if I'm being ripped open, and I have to swallow a pained yelp, my muscles tensing up immediately and squeezing his finger tightly as if trying to rid itself of the intrusion.

I struggle to draw in air as I pant shallowly, my body trembling from the foreign invasion. "F-fuck," I whimper, my teeth clamping down on my bottom lip and biting into it.

"Ah, ah," Sebastian admonishes, his finger sliding out with ease. "Don't interrupt the teacher while he is lecturing," he tsks, giving no warning as he slams the digit back in. The tip of his finger jabs and prods at my walls, as if searching for something. I can feel my body tremoring violently, the pain building up and spreading through me, throbbing with my wild pulse. When he curls it inside of me, it brushes against my prostate, and agony slowly melts into pleasure.

"Oh," I gasp out, a surprised moan spilling from my lips. His skilled digit continues to abuse that sweet bundle of nerves, and soon I'm a mess of sweat, desire, and fire. The stimulation is almost too much, and my sight swims as white spots dance across my vision. I can barely suck in a breath before a moan peals from my throat, my body melting into the mattress.

"That's it," he almost coos, a deep, low breath falling from his lips. His finger continues to penetrate me, and even though the pleasure radiates through my body, it isn't enough. "Take your punishment like the bad boy you are," Sebastian says as his middle finger joins his other digit.

I can feel him scissoring his fingers, stretching me, curling and bending them. With a sudden thrust of his hand, his knuckles slam into my prostate, and I'm biting my tongue hard enough to bleed, stopping me from moaning his name. I nuzzle into the comforter, burying my face and muffling the keening, wanton sounds that are wrenching from my body with every twist of his fingers. I'm panting unevenly, and my lower stomach is coiling almost painfully, the need to cum building within me. In an act of desperation, I rock my hips back into his hand, and the intense pleasure it causes sends shivers dancing over my heated skin.

Lifting my head up slightly, I whimper, "P-professor," my voice laced with urgency.

"We're almost finished," he replies, his fingers leaving me and bringing a groan of loss from me. His other hand ghosts over my spine, causing my already frayed nerves to stand on end. I can barely think properly, so I'm confused as to what he means. "Hopefully you'll learn your lesson after this."

I hear the clinking of his belt, followed by the muffled sounds of fabric being undone. Sudden realisation dawns on me, followed by an anticipation so fierce, it's dizzying. I claw at the sheets, ripping at them with my nails, my breathing irregular as my body trembles with impatience. I hear him push down his trousers, and my heart tries to beat through my ribcage when his hands grasp my hips. Sebastian has an iron grip on me, and he pulls me back, resting my ass against his hips. His dick is so hard that it's throbbing, still confined in underwear. I roll my hips into him, trying to spur him to move faster. His nails scratch my hipbones roughly, and that shreds any sliver of dignity I had left.

"Please, Sebastian," I beg, my voice desperate and half-mad. I let soft, breathy moans leave my parted lips as I continue to rock and buck into his sheathed dick. Grinding against him harshly, a heavy moaned "please," rips from me. I don't care if I seem like a wanton whore, all I know is that I want him inside of me, and I want it right fucking now.

"I'm going to grace you with a sensation like no other," Sebastian breathes, and I feel the grating fabric of his underwear being removed. He rubs his erection against my ass, and precum oozes out over my highly sensitive flesh. His dick slides between my abused and still-red cheeks, the very tip prodding and teasing my quivering hole. Time seems to stop, and I hold my breath, waiting. Sebastian starts to push in, and—

"Young Master, it's time to wake up."

My eyes shoot open. A cold sweat beaded on my skin makes me shiver. I'm disoriented, but the scent of Earl Grey washing over me rouses me into a more aware state. A servant is standing near my bed, pouring tea; I'm lying on my side, facing away, and my hand is wrapped around my flaccid dick. Cum coats my thighs and fingers, already drying. I'm frozen, momentary panic rising up, before I quickly squish it. I release the hold I have on my erection, roll onto my back, and sit up. I glance over at the staff who's preparing my tea.

"Thank you. You are dismissed," I say, waving my clean hand at him.

I watch him leave, and as soon as the door shuts with a click, I fly out from underneath my covers, running into my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, assessing myself for any damage. My eyes are wild, my state of dress disheveled, yet I'm no worse for the wear. Dropping my boxers, I turn my back to the mirror, twisting my head around to stare at my ass. The flesh is in pristine condition, no bruising or redness, and I'm not sore. I release a breath that I didn't even realise I was holding. It had only been a dream. I thanked whatever gods there were for my virginity still being in tact, almost collapsing to my knees in relief.

"What a horrid fucking nightmare," I whisper to myself, and I glare at my soft dick as if it had personally insulted me. "Hormones are fucking crazy." I grumble and huff, mentally shaking myself.

That was probably normal. It was just a wet dream. Just a violent, horrifying wet dream. Maybe I was slightly masochistic, but holy fucking hell, I was not that batshit insane. Maybe I was hanging out with Alois too much, and his madness was rubbing off on me. With a sigh, I turned the hot water on, deciding to take a shower. I stepped into the tub, letting the scalding water wash over me. With eyes closed, I stood still in the water for a good ten minutes, trying to melt away the dream. Everything had been so intense, it had seemed real. My stomach rolled, threatening to heave its contents. I needed to stop thinking about it. Quickly washing myself, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a pristine navy towel around myself. I was so tiny that I was practically swimming in the soft cloth. Leaving the bathroom, I walked over to my desk. I sat with a soft plop, curling up in the office chair as I turned my laptop on. My hair was still dripping, but drying off seemed less important than going over my essay for the umpteenth time. I was looking for flaws, checking my grammar and word usage, making sure that my research comes from valid resources. Every time I edited the paper, the word count would grow, though I wouldn't let it get too high. I wasn't sure if I'd be marked down for using too many words. Finding nothing wrong with my essay, I spun my chair away from my computer, leaning back in the seat and sighing. I needed a proper plan of attack, and I couldn't come up with ways to seduce Sebastian if I was obsessing over perfecting my already amazing essay. With a new determination, I stood up, drying myself off, and pulling on clean clothes. I send Alois a quick text, telling him to get his ass over here and help me brainstorm. With nothing else to do, I flop into my chair with a sigh, turning back to my laptop, a bitter frown curling my lips. Guess I'd better check it again.

* * *

 

I felt like I was developing OCD because of this fucking essay. The screen of my laptop is bright as fuck, burning my irises and making my eyes tired. I don't know how long I've been staring blankly at this essay, but it feels like it's been centuries. My back is stiff with immobility, and my whole body is frozen, save for my leg that is bouncing restlessly.

Just when I begin to think that maybe I need to call Alois to yell at him, the doorbell rings what seems like a hundred times. With a jolt, I bring my hands up to my ears as I almost fall out of my chair, a frown curling my lips. With how many times the bell is being rung, I have no doubts in my mind as to who it is. Why he didn't just waltz in as he normally does, I have no idea. Maybe he's trying to irritate me. Maybe it's fucking working. I flee my room and practically fly down the stairs, hands on my ears, wanting the grating noise to stop. It finally ceases, so I gratefully drop my arms to my side and approach the entryway.

"Alois, wha—" I start, but my words come to a dead halt as I fling the door open. I was about to give him a lecture about doorbells and how they are meant to be used, until I noticed that he's holding two large black trashbags, with two more sitting on the porch behind him. Shock slaps me in the face, and I freeze for a moment. "What the fuck is that?" His bright smile makes fear spread through me, a fear that is completely warranted when he informs me in his bubbly voice what exactly is in the bags.

"This is your new wardrobe." I can feel my face twisting into absolute horror. I have no idea what kind of "clothing" he's going to subject me to, but I know that it won't be good. I've seen how he dresses, and I can tell you that he looks like a goddamn whore. As much as I want to tell him to fuck off, I begrudgingly grab one of the bags from him, turning away and heading towards the grand staircase.

"Shut the door," I call behind me, not sparing a glance back at him. I know I've got a gloomy look on my face, but I can't help it. "I swear to god, Alois, these better not be what I think they are." My voice is dangerously calm, and I know it gets my point across.

Still, Alois' only response is to click his tongue at me, taking no stock in my threat. Bitch. I look back at him, satisfied to see him struggling to carry the three massive bags of clothing. Serves him right.

"You won't be able to seduce your professor wearing that. Besides, I've been dying to see you model these clothes." His voice is overtly cheerful, and I already hate that I've asked for his assistance.

I want to slam my head into a wall until he disappears, though I refrain from doing so. Wouldn't want to fuck up my face when I'm going to be attempting at seduction in two days. His insult to my wardrobe does not go unnoticed, and I scowl at the floor as I walk towards my bedroom.

"There is nothing wrong with my attire. I already regret asking for your help," I sigh, my face paling at the thought of what is to come. As soon as we step over the threshhold and into my room, Alois ungracefully drops the bags onto the floor, his hands immediately placed on his hips.

He is the epitome of sass, and he looks at me with a raised brow. "Look, do you want to get revenge on him, or not?" I release my hold on the bag, dragging my feet as I walk over to my bed, plopping down on it. I cradle my face in my hand, eyeing the bags with contempt. What a stupid fucking question.

"Of course I do." I'm determined to wreck Sebastian, and Alois knows that.

"Then shut the fuck up, and get undressed," the blond maniac demands, not even looking at me as he starts rifling through one of the bags.

I shoot a dirty look at him, even though he doesn't see it, and I start to pull off my clothes. Why did I even get dressed in the first place? I don't argue with him this time, though I leave my boxers on. Muttering to myself, I cross my arms over my chest, cocking my hips and glancing at the full-length mirror that occupies the wall right next to my closet.

I turn my gaze back to Alois, grumbling, "I fear for my life." He pauses in what he's doing, turning to assess me.

His eyes travel up and down my body before shaking his head in disappointment. "No, no, no. You can't be serious."

I blink, confusion causing me to tilt my head to the side. “What on earth do you mean?”

He lifts his slim hand up and gestures at the boxers still on my person, his face taking on a mask of disappointment. “Do you honestly think you can seduce a professor wearing those?”

“But…” I start, trailing off, my voice laced with uncertainty. I lick my lips before asking, “What do my underwear have to do with it?” Nervously tugging on the hem of the fabric, my feet move back a few steps of their own accord, until my knees hit my mattress. I’m afraid of what his answer is going to be. I really don’t want to go commando, or worse…

“He’s obviously not going to find those attractive,” Alois states matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you can’t wear boxers under mini-shorts.” The cold sweat of fear breaks out over my flesh, and I swallow hard. He’s going to turn me into a right trollop, I just know it.

“M-mini? No, oh no. Alois, I can’t. My tattoo.” I’m whining, I know, and I’m borderline begging. I loved my tattoo, but I didn’t want it to be exposed for all the world to see. The devilish grin that spread across his lips and the determined narrowing of his eyes froze me to the floor. There was no escape, and I had no choice in the matter. I had seriously fucked myself.

“Exactly,” he purred.

“Fuck.” I’m gripping onto the fabric of my boxers for dear life, afraid that if I don’t he’s going to tear them from me. My eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route. There is none. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Ciel,” Alois sighs, waltzing over and sitting on my bed, his tone of voice taking on pity and a teacher-like quality, as if he were schooling me. “This is basic human psychology. Your professor got so worked up because you were being rebellious, not a submissive little puppy. Do you want him to think you're a good boy who always does his homework and brushes his teeth every night? Or do you want him to think you're a sexy defiant gem that he can't keep his hands off of?”

“He was only furious with me, not turned on by my childish antics. But…” I sigh, trying to smother the whine in my speech. With a deep breath, I finally gain control of myself. I am once more my confident, haughty self. I push the fabric of my boxers down, letting them fall to the floor uselessly. “I fucking hate it when you’re right.”

He’s already back over at one of the bags, his hand searching and pulling out a black piece of fabric. Alois throws it at me, and I automatically reach out and catch it. Studying it, I realise that it’s a lace thong, and a frown pulls at the corners of my lips. I don’t miss his saucy wink as he tells me that I can keep this one. Fuck. I’m not fighting him anymore. He’s right; to get under Sebastian’s skin, I have to up the sexy in any way possible, if that’s even possible because I already ooze sex. I slide on the little slip of fabric, the string resting neatly between my ass cheeks, and making me immediately feel uncomfortable. The front cradles my dick lovingly, but the lace is so irritating to my skin that I shudder.

“How do women wear these? It feels like I have a perpetual wedgie, and the lace is fucking itchy.”

“They wear them because they know they're sexy.” He flings another article of clothing at me, and I fumble to catch it, wondering what the hell it could possibly be this time. “And guys know they're sexy, too. Once your professor sees your ass in those, he'll be putty in your hands.” It’s the fucking mini shorts.

“I’m not going to be giving him a strip tease,” I scoff, but pull the shortest shorts known to man up my slender calves and generous thighs. My fingers fumble with the button, pushing it through its hole. I try to adjust the tight fabric as best I can, a tiny whimper dripping from my tongue. “They're squeezing my dick. How do you wear these, Alois? I feel like if I happened to get a boner, my dick would fall off.” I know I’m being overly dramatic, but I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m going to give him as much shit as I can for getting away with dressing me up like his own personal Barbie doll.

“You’re not?” He looks up at me, blinking in confusion as if it is inconceivable that I wouldn’t fuck my professor. “Why’d you put on the thong, then?” Just as I open my mouth to bitch at him, he giggles and waves his hand dismissively at me to ward off my anger. “Kidding, kidding. I promise it was necessary. And... I dunno,” he says with a shrug. “You get used to the tight feeling. Eventually it starts to feel kind of good.”

Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I give him a dirty look. “Hopefully I won't have to wear them that long, then.” I pause, eyeing each giant black trash bag in turn, my thoughts circling around in my head. “You better not have any shirts in there that have holes where my nipples are. I'd like to keep my piercings as concealed as possible.”

Alois shakes his head at me like I’m an idiot. “We have to leave a little bit to the imagination. But...” His index finger taps against his lips as he thinks. “I'm unsure as to what style of shirt you should wear. Perhaps a corset...” Our eyes meet, and I can tell that he’s trying to hold back a stupid fucking giggle. I give him a look of absolute horror as an unpleasant shiver dances up and down my spine.

“No. Fuck you. Anything but that.” I can still remember the last time he played “dress up” with me. I had adamantly refused to wear some atrocity that he had picked out for me, determined not to cave and give into his whims. The little bitch got so pissed off at me for ruining his fun that he pinned me down and forced a corset on me. I had to wear it all fucking day and I thought my insides were going to explode out of me. Alois was strong when he wanted to be, and I learned the hard way that when it came to him dressing me, I had to either give in or face his wrath. I’ll take slutty clothes with a grain of salt any day, so long as I never had to lay eyes on another torture contraption.

He laughs a little manically, shaking his head and concedes. “Fine, fine.” His slim hand darts back into a black bag, searching around for all of two seconds before reemerging with a thin, soft-looking fabric. “What about a crop top? My waist is a little longer than yours so it'll fit like a normal shirt that's a size too small, but you'll still be able to see a bit of skin.” I take the shirt from him, pulling it on over my head and shoving my arms into the holes.

I tug on the fabric self-consciously, hyperaware of how short it was on me. “If I lifted my arms, you'd be able to see my belly button. And even more of my tattoo.”

“That's the point.” He crosses his arms and taps his foot on the ground, as if his patience with me is wearing ever thinner. “We're going for a rebellious look, remember? Besides, no real man can resist tattoos.”

“Yes, but I don't want to give the whole thing away in one go. I want him to burn with curiosity, with the need to see it in its entirety on my naked alabaster skin.” I huff softly, looking down at myself in speculation. “I can see my hipbones, which isn't too bad, I suppose. I just won't lift my arms up at all while wearing this.” Looking back up at him, my face adopts a determined expression. “Okay, what’s next?”

“Now, as slutty as I'd like to make you, we do still have to follow the university's dress code,” he states with a frown, moving to the last, currently untouched bag. He digs around, focusing hard and muttering almost to himself. “So unfortunately I don't think I can put you in a pair of my stilettos.”

“Thank fucking god that you can’t. I would break my neck in those.” I cross my arms over my chest and cock my hips. My thoughts become more inward as I lose interest in whatever Alois is looking for. I’m going over what kind of seduction techniques in my head when I blurt out, “I can’t completely change my behavior, or else he’d be suspicious.” I quirk a brow, going of the pros and cons of numerous tactics.

“Buuuut…” Alois draws the word out, and I know he’s not listening to me at all, still stuck on shoes. It’s okay though, because I haven’t been listening to his stupid ass either. Out come a pair of shoes, and he snaps me out of my thoughts when he asks, “What about these? They'll cover more skin so you're not completely self-conscious, and they have a three inch heel.” He taps the heel a few times for emphasis. “Not tall enough to break your neck, but sizable enough to show off your sexy legs.”

I stare at the boots with assessing eyes, taking in the black leather, and they look innocent enough. “Fine,” I concede, taking them from him gingerly. “I can agree to something that won’t kill me.” That earned me an excited cheer from Alois, who threw his arms up in the air.

“Make sure you lace them up extra tight!” He winks at me, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to take that comment in any other way than at face value, so I don’t respond.

I plop down onto my mattress, slowly unlacing the boots before slipping my dainty feet in. I suppose I’m lucky that his feet are as small as mine, or else my appendages would be swimming in these shoes. I lace the shoes back up, making sure that they are tighter than a virgin. Once satisfied with that, I lean back and look at all four black bags again.

I pause, a question flavoring my lips. “You didn’t bring your whole closet, did you?”

“Possibly,” he giggles, his eyes taking on a mischievous light. “I'll plan out all of your future outfits later. Right now I have another surprise for you.”

At the thought of another undesirable surprise, I frown deeply, glancing up at Alois with an extra dose of suspicion in my eyes. “And that would be?”

He reaches down into a bag and pulls out a see-through plastic, shaking it around so as I can see the contents move inside, and he beams excitedly at me. “From now until our operation is successful, you will be wearing make-up.”

“No. Abso-fucking-lutely not. You can stuff me into all the whore pants you want, make me wear revealing tops, but I draw the line at fucking makeup. You can't make me.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare daggers at him. There is no way in hell I would let him put that shit on my face.

“I know it's a bit insulting having your best friend force you to wear make-up, but the truth is, is that even though your complexion is flawless and you're showing a lot of skin, Sebastian will be focused on your face more than anything, and if we can enhance your features even more, you'll be completely irresistible.” Alois explained calmly, ignoring my willfulness as easily as he breathed. Of course I was going to give in.

I never wanted to incur his wrath again; but I wasn’t happy about surrendering. “It better look fucking natural then. Because if he can tell that I'm wearing even the slightest bit of that shit, I will murder you dead. Okay?” I raise a perfectly arched brow at him and jut my chin out, nose sticking in the air haughtily.

“Deal!” He yips happily, crawling into my lap. As fun as it would be to push him off and onto the floor, I refrain while he opens his box and begins pulling out implements of torture. He has so many brushes and compacts in his hand, things I have no idea what they’re for. The finger of fear glides down my spine, but I stay still and let him do what he wants. He’s a spoiled fucking bitch. “I'm an expert at this. I'll even come over every morning and do it before school to make sure it looks perfect,” he announces with an excited grin.

My face adopts a blank expression, and I try very hard to keep it in place as annoyance bleeds into my heavily sarcastic tone. “Why don't you just fucking live with me.” He starts to gently brush a pale liquid over the skin of my face, not even batting a lash at me.

“Because I prefer not to have my best friend shout at me while some guy is plowing me from behind at night.” His words are said so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes he’d be anything other than celibate in my house.

I can feel my brow twitching, though I keep my expression schooled as I breathe out, “Hah, as if I'd let some deranged psychopath into my home. You'd be sexless the entire time.”

Alois sets the cake batter he just put on my face with a powder that makes me want to sneeze, his bottom lip jutting out in an endearing pout. “Like hell I would be.”

I give a derisive snort, my lips wanting to quirk into a cruel smirk, but I bite my tongue instead. “Do you think the staff would let some slimy fuckwit in here?”

He shrugs one shoulder, keeping his expression blank as he take a verbal jab at me. “It's possible. After all, they let you in every day.”

He takes another powder that’s just slightly darker than my porcelain skin, and starts applying it in the hollows of my cheeks, and other places. I don’t know the method to his madness, and I don’t give a fuck either.

“One more insult, and I'm going to bend you over my bed and fuck the life out of you, and then bury your body in my backyard.” I grumble in irritation, fingers itching to strangle the shit out of him.

“Oh, baby,” he moans, pausing putting make-up on my face to wiggle in my lap. “Stop. You're turning me on.”

I glance at his angelic face, a smirk curling my lips as I buck my hips into his slightly. “Only you would be turned on by the idea of getting fucked to death.”

He flicks my nose, indicating that he’s not going to indulge me in trying to distract him. “Stop that. Don't interrupt me while I'm working. This takes a lot of skill, you know.”

He finishes with the powder, putting the brush and compact away to pick up a tube. I’m not retarded enough to not know that it’s mascara. He glides the wand through my lashes, making them appear even longer than they already are. I was unaware I needed the assistance. Even though I trust my blond bitch more than anyone else in the world, fear starts creeping up in me with how close the sharp-looking bristles of the wand are to my eye.

I worry that he’s going to stab my eye out, so I sit absolutely still, scarcely breathing. “Sorry. Just hurry it up.” I keep my slight terror out of my voice. I don’t want him to doubt my trust in him.

Alois gives me a beautiful, reassuring smile, his sweet voice absolutely calm. “Just be patient.” Finally, he brings the wand away from my lashes, and caps the tube of mascara. I feel like I can finally breathe. He dabs his finger on a pale pink cream, bringing it to my lips to dab them just in the center with the barest hints of product. “This will give you a more innocent appearance, just in case your scowl scares him away.” He pauses, adding a tiny bit more of the weird cream, before smiling brightly and shoving a handheld mirror into my face. “And we're done!” I’m fighting the urge to bite his finger off, instead turning my glare to the mirror.

A shocked look overtakes me, followed by confusion as I jerk back, blinking and staring at my reflection- “Jesus Christ.” My flawless face is not entirely unfamiliar to me, yet it is strangely effeminate. The blue of my irises somehow seems deeper, and my eyes appear larger than they already are. The lashes framing my orbs are obscenely long and dust my high cheekbones every time I close them. I’m quite surprised that Alois managed to not make me look like a whore in a brothel. Well, the clothing he had me in was a different story entirely.

“You can't deny that you look amazing.” He studies his nails confidently, a smug look on his face. “And it looks 100% natural.” I grudgingly nod my head, a tiny frown pulling at my lips as I continue to scrutinize my reflection.

“You weren't lying about your skills, either. Okay.” I pull Alois towards me and curl my arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “You're a goddess, baby.” Alois sighs in contentment, hugging me back with a slight squeeze.

“He won't be able to resist you.”

“I should hope not. Otherwise that throws a wrench into our plans.” I lean closer to him and brush my lips against his cheek, placing a soft kiss on it. I pull away from him, letting my expression become serious. “Now, let's discuss tactics.”

Alois flops down, stomach-first, onto my bed, his legs crossing in the air. He rests his head on his fists, his elbows bent and digging into the mattress for support. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well,” I pause, organizing my thoughts and tapping my index finger against my lips. “I know that my behavior can't exactly change. I still have to be my asshole self, but I wanted to soften it a bit. Try to seem a bit… I don't know.”

“Likable?” the blond suggests with a chirping giggle.

I frown slightly, but give a nod. “Yes. But I don't know how to be that way.”

I can see from my peripheral vision that he’s started kicking his legs. “Hey, Ciel?”

Turning to look at him fully, I tilt my head to the side curiously. “Yes?”

Alois starts chewing on his index finger anxiously, his eyes darting to my face before settling on something behind my shoulder. A feeling of uneasiness starts coiling in my stomach, and quickly turns to dread as he blurts a question. “What did your mother look like?”

I bite harshly into my bottom lip, my heart seizing with the pain of her loss. Trying to fight it off, I scramble to my feet and begin pacing the length of my room. Back and forth, back and forth; I swallow hard, pushing down my emotions so that I can give him an answer without my voice wavering. “I have her eyes, her face shape. But she was beautiful, and kind. She looked like an angel, with flaxen hair, and a smile that never left her face.” My voice catches in my throat, and I can’t seem to continue describing her.

I catch Alois batting his lashes as I glance at him, his lilting voice soft. “She sounds so beautiful.”

“She was,” I murmur gently, my eyes sliding to the floor but focusing on nothing. “She softened my father. They were perfectly picturesque together.”

“Then that's what you need to do,” he states with confidence, standing up gracefully and taking my hands into his. “You need to think of Sebastian as your mother, metaphorically. You need to let him soften you, let your mind transform all of his flaws into perfections.”

I blink, taken aback, and raise my brow at him. I let him continue to cradle my hands, instead of pulling them away, which was my initial instinct. “And how do you suppose I go about doing that?”

Alois chews on his lip, mulling over his thoughts. “I don't know. Act the same way you would if your mother was here. I know you have a little love in there somewhere.” He pokes my chest, right over where my heart should be.

This time I let my instinct take the lead, and I swat away his hands, taking a few steps back so that he cannot put his hands on my person so easily. I scoff at him, my normal scowl curling my lips downwards. “As if there's any of it left. She died when I was young, and I was left with a father who didn't give a shit enough about me to be involved in my life.” Undaunted by my callous reaction to his touch, the blond bitch steps towards me and places both of his hands against my cheeks, touching lightly as if I’m something to be cherished.

“But I give a shit, Ciel. When you're grumpy, I'm willing to take your punches and listen to your yelling. And I won't stand here and watch some jerk walk all over you just because he thinks he's entitled to do so. You have to do this, for you and me.”

Instead of rejecting his touch once again, I find myself leaning into it, drawing a deep and steadying breath, centering myself. “You're right. I'll have to figure out how to seem like I'm some sort of loving creature.” I let the corner of my lips curl up into a soft smile, my arms reaching towards him and wrapping around his waist. “Now, do you have any other ideas for me? You're the embodiment of seduction and lust.” That statement brings a beaming grin to his face, making him look all the more cherubic, yet filling me with a slight fear.

“I need to show you the sensitive parts on a man's body, just in case you happen to get close enough to him.” Well, at least my fear was fucking warranted. He lays his head against my collarbone, his nose nuzzling against the base of my neck. My skin prickles as he breathes in my essence, my body responding all on its own. “You need to focus a lot of attention on his neck. It'll drive him wild.”

A shiver works its way through me, and my hands tighten their grip on his hips. “I can see that. And what else?” His dainty fingers starts to trace meaningless patterns on the trembling flesh of my neck and running up to dance along my jawline. Those devious digits brush against my cheek as he reaches for a silken strand of my blae hair, tugging on it.

“If you start to get intimate, pull on his hair a little. By doing so, you're basically stating that you won't be easily compliant, and if he's a fan of being dominant, he'll consider it a challenge.” I let my hands slip down from his hips to his ass, cupping each plump cheek. I squeeze the mounds, a brow raising in thought.

“I'll remember to do so.” Alois allows his own hands to drift around to my back, his nails lightly scraching at my flesh through the thin fabric of my shirt.

“And if you do decide to fuck him, scratch his back up good. Not only will he think he's doing a good job, but it's sexy as hell,” he murmurs with a breathy giggle.

I rolls my eyes, smirking sardonically and playfully giving his neck a slight nip. I daringly roll my hips against his, teasing him in return. “You're such a good teacher, baby. Have any other pointers?”

“Yeah: don't be a dick.” He announces with an elbow jab to my ribcage. “I know you like acting like an arrogant twat, but he's obviously not a fan of the conceited type, so don't insult him constantly.”

Snorting in derision, I feign a wince and pull away from him slightly. My hand cradles my ribs as if trying to soothe a nonexistent pain. “I dunno, he seems like he can handle a little criticism. Unlike you, with your delicate sensibilities.”

Alois crosses his arms over his chest defensively and takes several steps away from me. “That's because he doesn't love you like I do.”

“Awh, baby,” I coo sweetly. “I'm done insulting you, I swear.” I pull on his arm, tugging it away from his chest so that I can place a gentle kiss on his hand. I smirk up at him, my lips still brushing against his skin. “Even though I seem to be acting like a raging dick, I'm actually listening and learning.”

The light blush that dusts his cheeks is endearing, even as he tugs his hand away from me. I straighten myself out, my hips instantly cocking as I curl my arms around my waist. “I don't care what you have to say about me. I'm just pointing out that your goal is to break his heart, and he'll never truly fall for you if you're constantly criticizing him.”

“All right, I concede. I will try to be the nicest bitch. Emphasis on try." I tilt my head to the side in thought, tapping my lips with my index finger. I’m almost hesitant to bring up this idea with my blond deviant, yet still use it on my own. My confidence in it is sorely lacking, though, and I know his slutty input is necessary. “I was thinking that instead of wearing any gag-inducing perfume...” My eyes dart to his face, and I see him quirk a brow at me expectantly. Swallowing my hesitance, I let the tactic fall from my lips like word vomit. My words run together, but not enough for him to miss what I said. “I would just... Well, jerk off.” I can feel my cheeks burning, but I try to feign nonchalance while explaining myself. “What other way to attract somebody than with pure, unadulterated pheromones?”

Alois’ eyes widen, and he can’t seem to find words for a moment or two. Before I can think my idea was mildy retarded, a grin broke out over his lips. “That's... That's genius! There's no way he'd be able to restrain himself from your natural scent!”

I begin chewing on my bottom lip, my cursed nervous habit, as my blush seems to darken in color. “Do you think it would work?” I can hear the uncertainty in my own voice, and I loathe that sign of weakness. Even if he notices that I’m lacking confidence, he doesn’t bring attention to it, for which I am extremely grateful. His lips curl into a mischievous smirk.

“Only one way to find out,” he says, his voice taking on an alarmingly singsong tone.

For a moment, I’m confused, but then my highly intelligent brain stops dicking around and I realise what he means. “Put it to the test on Monday?”

“Yep. And don't hold back.”

“I didn't plan on holding back.” I say with a cocky smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. There is no room for weakness now; I have to let my confidence and pride rule me. I cannot allow myself to lose. “Oh, and I planned to behave a bit submissively around him. Do what he says, be at his beck and call, whatever the menial task.” I have a feeling that he’s the dominant sort, and it has nothing to do with my previous nightmare.

Alois gets a very concerned look on his face, like he thinks I’m about to fuck the whole operation up. “Just don't go overboard. He'll notice if you suddenly go from disobedient to completely submissive.”

I scoff, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I’m not a fucking retard. “I said a bit. I may do whatever he says, but it doesn't mean I won't be a snarky bitch the whole time.”

Alois doesn’t have the same restraint, and he rolls his cerulean orbs with a slight sigh. “Sounds like my Ciel.”

I grin, fluttering my lashes at him, my tone saccharine sweet. “The one and only, baby. Any other ideas?”

He merely shrugs at me, muttering before turning his attention back to his trash bag wardrobe. “Not that I can think of.”

Running my finger over my lips in thought, I absentmindedly turn back to my desk and slowly meander over, getting ready to once again fuck with my essay. “Other than the fact that I think my elegant neck and prominent collarbones should be on display at all times, I'm not sure if there is anything else,” I say, more so to myself than to him.

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know,” Alois says, pulling my attention back to him.

I stare at him for a long moment, before I lick my lips. “Thanks, Alois,” I say, my voice softer than it normally is. “I appreciate your help, even if some of it is… questionable.” I bound out of my chair, practically throwing myself on top of him to hug him. Perhaps I don’t show enough affection to my best friend.

“No need to thank me,” he says, his words muffled by my shoulder as he hugs me back. We release each other and I crawl off of him, allowing him to breathe. “After all, I'm sure you'll be hating me once you have to wear my clothing every day.”

“Oh, I definitely will hate you,” I confirm, making sure to have a playful expression so as not to worry. “But in the end, I'll realise that your efforts were necessary.”

“I just hope it works,” Alois sighs.

“Oh, it’s going to.” I’m determined as fucking hell to make this work. No matter what I have to do. “I will make it work.”

I was hoping that saying it out loud would make it true. I left Alois to plan as many outfits for me as his little gay heart desired, as I wanted nothing to do with inflicting torture upon myself. Instead I plop down in my office chair and turn it towards my computer. I turn it on and wait for it to come to life, slipping my flashdrive into the usb port, to once again fuck with my essay. I’m going to write myself into an early grave.

* * *

The door of the classroom is steadily moving ever closer to me as I walk towards it; when I finally reach it, I only pause for one moment to take a deep breath before I push the door open. I strut into the room, hips swinging seductively as the clicking of the heel of the boots echoes around me. Glancing toward the front of the room where Sebastian’s desk is centered, I catch a glimpse of him. He blinks as if he’s taken aback, and his mouth falls open slightly in shock momentarily, before he quickly regains his composure. I got a reaction out of him, however slight, and it was enough to make me feel as if I’d won a small battle in the war to come.

“Ahem… Everyone please be seated,” Sebastian states in his liquid velvet voice.

Sitting promptly like an obedient little bitch, I bring my elbows up on top of the desk, leaning forward and causing my shirt to ride up enough to expose my prominent hipbones. I stare directly at Sebastian, waiting for him to begin today’s lesson. His large hands come up, his slender fingers adjusting his tie as he breathes out a small cough.

“So, class, why do we read?” I tilt my head to the side, keeping silent as a few students hesitatingly call out random thoughts. "Mm, a few of you were correct. The answer is, we read for a number of reasons," he pauses, beginning to pace back and forth calmly. "We read to be entertained, be informed, be persuaded. But of the utmost importance, no matter what we are indulging in, we read to be captivated."

His lecture has me listening with rapt attention, and my eyes are glued onto him, scanning his body in appreciation several times before settling on his pale angular face. As I look up at his sanguine eyes, they lock onto mine, holding me in an intense and fiery stare that leaves me breathless. I glance down just enough to see his adam's apple bob as he swallows.

"Now, can anyone tell me strategies for ensuring one's captivation?" As soon as those words leave his lips, my brain supplies me with countless inappropriate ways to captivate a person's attention, and I have to bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep myself from blurting them out. My lashes flutter slightly as I continue to meet his gaze unwaveringly, almost issuing a silent challenge. Sebastian once again coughs, his hands rubbing and wringing together in an almost nervous way. "Well? Any ideas?"

Running my tongue along my lips as I twirl a strand of my blae hair with my fingers, I consider a more appropriate response and speak up. "You can ignite their imagination." I watch as his eyes widen in a slightly shocked manner upon hearing me speak, and his posture seems to straighten even more than it already is, if that is even possible. The whole class directs their attention to me, varying expressions on their faces, although I can't seem to give a shit enough to focus on them.

"You don't say, Mr. Phantomhive? Could you give an example of how one might go about igniting their readers' imaginations?" He asks, his voice quite professional, all things considered.

"Well, it's simple, really. Using descriptive language to paint a picture tends to inspire in people the use of imagination to create a movie of sorts in their heads." I state this matter-of-factly, hardly bothering to spare the class a glance, my eyes solely focused on Sebastian as I lean my cheek against my palm in a relaxed matter, my legs crossing beneath the table. "Any simpleton who's read a book could come to that conclusion." At this statement, my eyes do sweep the classroom, a smug expression on my face. Funny how no one could think of the easiest way to captivate a person.

When my eyes settle back on Sebastian, I can see that my arrogant and blunt response has displeased him in the way that he furrows his brow and narrows his eyes. Tch, typical. "Mm, yes. Quite. Anyway, class," he says smoothly, beginning to pace again, his gaze leaving my person and sweeping the entire classroom. "This week we'll look into and examine why we read, and what it takes to become a proficient reader, and perhaps an author, as well. After all, reading and writing go hand-in-hand."

My face relaxes back into a normal expression as I return my attention to him. He doesn't have to look at me now, soon he will see nothing but me; and I will make sure of that. My pride isn't wounded in the least, although I will have to work on controlling my arrogance. I amuse myself by mentally undressing him, my foot bouncing leisurely beneath my seat.

"I'd like you to brainstorm your thoughts tonight, and try to fathom how, if you were all authors, you would grasp your readers' attention and keep it until they were finished indulging in what you had written, much like how our novelist idols allure us while we read."

A brow quirks at his words, my mind instantly hitting the gutter, imagining all the ways that I could captivate and arouse him. My eyes lid with the lustful thoughts, a tiny hum of approval rising in my throat. I take a small break from undressing him with my eyes to take a quick glance at his disturbingly beautiful face. The sudden ringing of the bell makes me jump slightly, and I finally tear my eyes away from Sebastian. I hear him give a sigh, announcing that class is dismissed as he shuffles over to his desk. I let my expression become neutral as I stand up and begin gathering my things. As the other students start filing out, I sling my bag over my shoulder and turn towards the door.

"Except for you, Mr. Phantomhive, I'd like to speak with you for a moment." I freeze in my tracks; his voice sounds stern, and when I turn to face him, his eyes are narrowed.

I walk over to his desk and stifle a sigh, preparing for a lecture about being a snarky little bitch to the entire class. "Of course, Professor," I say in my sweetest tone.

His eyes travel slowly down my body and then back up before settling upon my face. "My, aren't we a bundle of surprises today."

I feel my cheeks heating up in embarrassment as I glance down at my attire, finally recalling that I'm wearing Alois' blasted clothing. I tug on the shirt, trying to get it to cover my hips. "Apparently so, Sir."

"You're agreeing with me," Sebastian states, his brow raising as I look up at him. "Yet another unexpected surprise."

I tilt my head to the side, feeling a genuine smile curling my lips as amusement sparkles in my eyes. "Sometimes I can be a good person."

With a snort and a shake of his head, he says, "I highly doubt that. Although, I didn't expect your appearance to be..." he pauses, looking me up and down once more. "So bare."

I bite into my bottom lip, having the decency to look embarrassed as I turn my eyes away from him. "Yes, well. I'm staying with one of my friends for a while, and this about makes up his entire wardrobe. If I had been able to bring my own clothing, I wouldn't be dressed like a trollop." I run my hands over the fabric of the indecently short shorts, as if I could magically make them longer by sheer willpower.

"Are you now?" Sebastian hums thoughtfully. "Hm. Well I suppose that explains the sudden change."

"I would never wear this attire unless the situation depended on it." I can feel my expression distorting into pure mortification. "I feel absolutely naked."

His fingers run through his raven hair in a tantalizing fashion, and his challenging eyes burn with a fiery passion as he regards me. "And when would the situation depend on it?"

A shiver runs down my spine when I meet his heated gaze, and my eyes lid slightly. My voice takes on a slightly breathy tone and almost subconsciously, I jut my hips out and cock them to the side, my pheromones going into overdrive. "Well, now, for instance. Perhaps when trying to captivate someone, as well."

Sebastian takes a sly step toward me, his breath caresses my burning skin. "Is that so? Are you, perhaps, trying to ignite someone's imagination?"

I can feel my lips twitch into a smirk, my head tilting up so that I can stare into his sinful face, and I lean closer to him. "It depends on if it's working or not."

His index finger slides underneath my chin, tilting my head up further and bringing his lips maddeningly close to mine. "I'm uncertain of who you're trying to captivate, but I can guarantee it's working."

Practically purring at his touch, my body moves closer to his of its own volition until our chests brush against each other, and our lips are barely a breath away from touching. My voice lowers to a sultry whisper. "I'm glad that it's working on the correct person, then."

He grips onto me, slamming me onto the surface of his desk forcefully, as if I weighed no more than a rag doll, before crawling on top of me and trapping my dainty body beneath his long, lean, muscular torso. I groan at the impact, my heart speeding up to a frenzied state as I wriggle my hips beneath him. My blue eyes darken with lust as I gaze up at him, my lids lowering slightly. A burning hunger fills me and threatens to consume me from within as a breath catches in my throat. Sebastian's fingers dance along my cheek, cradling it gently as his lips rest just against mine, though it isn't a kiss.

He smirks, and I can feel his lips quirking. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long, Ciel."

"Have you?" My tongue darts out to run along his lips, my hands sliding up his chest, stopping to cling onto the lapels of his suit jacket. "The same could be said for me."

He kisses me then, ravenously, and nothing compares to the feeling of his lips upon mine. His large hands trail over my bare flesh, dancing along my tattooed legs. He squeezes my inner thighs, fingers brushing teasingly over my straining erection. Our jaws are working in time, kissing as though we're starving, and a low moan rumbles in my chest. I claw at his lapel, a shiver working its way up my spine as I roll my hips slightly, craving more of his touch. Sebastian slides a hand up, tenderly rubbing my stomach and moving up my chest, his hips grinding down into mine. I can feel the hard mass between his legs, throbbing to the point of bursting as he feverishly works his hips against me. I knead his chest with my slim fingers, his mouth swallowing up a small moan from me, and I buck my hips against his, offering more friction.

The kiss breaks, and I gasp for air, my entire body being consumed in the fire that he's started in me. "S-Sebastian..."

"Ciiiieeeel, wake up."

The voice is not his; there's a heaviness weighing on my chest, but it's not the firm muscular torso of Sebastian, rather something round and soft. My eyes fly open, and I stare up in confusion at the devilishly innocent face of Alois.

"Wha--Alois! Get your fat fucking ass off me!" I shout, irritation instantly replacing the arousal I felt only moments before. I shove him away, sitting up and glaring at him. My blanket is tangled around me, concealing the throbbing morning wood within its confines. Sweat slicks my skin, and my breathing is not yet under control. These dreams are going to be the fucking death of me. "What the hell were you doing?"

A small pout curls his lips, as if I somehow wounded him. "You were thrashing in your sleep, I thought you were having a nightmare. So I woke you up!"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I count to ten and try to regain the reigns on my anger. Am I angry because of the dream, or because he woke me up? Both, I think.

"Hey, Ciel," the blond says coyly, and I waryingly lean away from him as he's come uncomfortably close to my person. His lips quirk into a devious smirk as he lowers his voice conspiratorily. "I~ smell~ se~men~!"

He knows exactly how to make my anger boil over, and I give up on even trying to take control of it.

"Shut the fuck up, you insufferable twat!" My hands find a pillow, and I whack him on the head with it. All this accomplishes is making him giggle like a retarded schoolgirl, and I know that he isn't going to relent that easily.

"Are you hard?" Alois purrs, his hand slinking up my thigh. Sometimes I hate being right.

I slap his hand sharply, my face growing red with embarrassment. "FUCK OFF! I HATE YOU!" I hiss, scrambling away from him and out of my bed. My feet hit the floor as he announces his undying love for me, for the umpteenth time. I turn to glare at him furiously, my voice becoming a dangerous calm. "I hope you get triple-dicked and die in a ditch."

"As long as one of those dicks is yours, baby~" he coos, and I have never wanted to hit him before as much as I do in this moment.

"As if I'd ever touch you with my pristine dick, you filthy whore!" I turn away from him, stomping towards my en suite bathroom, ignoring him as he tells me how harsh that was. Just before I pass through the doorway, I spin on my heel to face him. "I am going to take a shower, and you are going to sit there like a good little bitch, or I swear to fuck, I will murder you."

I slam the door shut, locking it behind me, still seething with anger. I glance down at my still hard dick, grumbling at it hatefully. "You are causing too many problems." I shower quickly, washing away the memory of my dream, wanting to forget that I had ever had such a nightmare. Still, I could not prevent my body from indulging, and at the end of my shower, three of my fingers were thrusting in and out of me as my other hand quickly slid up and down my shaft. I hurried myself to my completion, knowing that I had a long day ahead of me.

Afterwards, I dried myself off and left the steaming bathroom, allowing Alois to dress me and apply makeup to my freshly washed face. I was hoping that his cosmetics wouldn't give me his herpes--or worse, acne that would marr my perfect complexion. I fled the house and climbed into the car, still consumed in the dream that I had been trying to forget as the chauffeur drove me to my doom.

* * *

Mildly damp strands of hair brushed and adhered to my forehead, its texture almost glutinous due to the amount of nervous sweat that caressed my entire body. Just the simple thought of strutting into the classroom terrified me at this point, and I was nearly tempted to fetch my inhaler out of fear of an asthma attack. I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, the soft, black leather of the calf-high boots brushing against my skin as I did so. Oh, how I hated these shoes. I had consistently stumbled across the parking lot while trying to walk in these demonic creations, until the tripping became humiliating enough to force me to drag my feet across the pavement. Not to mention that the tight, denim, acid wash shorts that clung to my upper thighs were so unbearable and so far up my crotch that I was shocked they hadn't extracted every last bit of circulation from my legs yet. Finally, the last and certainly the worst part, was the cropped, loose-fitting shirt that loved to ride up my hips and slip down my shoulders, and if that wasn't enough, a big logo was scrawled across the front, sporting the cringe-worthy words 'I SWALLOW'.

My hands trembled as I swatted away my moist hair, the stickiness making my tension rise even higher if possible. A small glimmer of hope within me made me reconsider my decision to go through with this. I could go home, say screw this fucking essay, and nap for an eternity. This whole idea of seducing my professor was absurd from the start, and I should have never allowed that bitch Alois to convince me otherwise. Then again, the fact that he gave me anything but an A still infuriated me beyond words, and the way he slashed my writing as if it were the work of a child dug under my skin and burrowed into my bones.

Sliding my phone out of the miniscule pocket -- if you could even call it that -- on my shorts, an intense surge of panic courses through me as I realise I only have one minute before I was late for class. Seemingly forgetting all of my previous trains of thought, I burst through the doors of the classroom, a huge whoosh of hair hitting my frazzled face upon doing so. I feel everyone's eyes on me and my cheeks immediately turn red. Sebastian was standing in the middle of the room, and had been proceeding to slip a pair glasses on before I rushed in. Now, he had raised his head from the sound of the commotion, and his eyes slightly widened when he regarded me.

"Mr. Phantomhive. You were nearly late." Though he seemed surprised, his voice was poised and professional as usual. Damn his composure.

"I apologise, Professor Michaelis," I mutter softly before I quickly scuttle to my seat, keeping my gaze low and avoiding eye contact.

"I-" Sebastian starts, his tone having the tint of crossness. He stops, however, and his expression, much to my surprise, changes to one of understanding. "It's quite all right. For future reference, please do try to get here on time, yes?" I nod solemnly, my posture stiff as I briskly stride to my desk as quickly as possible. "And I'd appreciate it if you turned in your essay; I said it was due the second class starts."

Freezing in my tracks, a shaky breath gets caught in my throat. I can feel everyone's eyes on me once more, their vision trailing up and down my promiscuous attire. Forcing myself to shake away my brewing nausea, I turn around and head straight for my professor, attempting to raise my head in faux confidence. By now, my reddish cheeks have dimmed to a bright pink, and I refuse to look into Sebastian's eyes while I hand him my essay, in fear of the red hue haunting my complexion again.

"I'm sorry, I almost forgot. Thank you for reminding me." Sebastian slowly takes the essay from me, and I nearly start shaking when I see him look me up and down out of my peripheral vision.

He lowers his voice so no one else in the room can hear him, though the volume change doesn't dull the charming quality. "Are you feeling ill?"

I bite down on my bottom lip, worrying it between my teeth violently. I can feel my face heating up from the simple sound of him talking, and my answer comes out as a stuttering whisper. "I-I. Don't worry ab-about me. I'm okay, I'm okay." I permit my eyes to take a quick glance up at his face, but it's very brief and I lower my eyes again, shifting my weight uncomfortably. "Um, may I sit now? I feel many eyes upon my a-- er, on me."

Sebastian quirks an eyebrow and nods, his slender fingers pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Yes, please return to your seat."

"Thank you," I breathe gratefully, and I rush to my desk as fast as my clumsy legs will go, only feeling relief when my ass slides down into my chair, allowing me to shrink away from everybody's eyes with ease.

Sebastian watches me for a moment before he claps his hands, silencing all of the chattering students. "Class is officially in session, everyone. Do settle down while I discuss your upcoming assignment."

Now that I can inhale a proper amount of air into my lungs, I study my professor's appearance, noticing that he's not wearing his usual black suit. Instead, he has on a black vest with a white dress shirt underneath, and a light coral-colored scarf substituting for a tie. A long grey coat adorned his shoulders, and his trousers were black, as always. He seemed a bit more dashing and handsome with glasses on, though why he was wearing them, I didn't know. I crossed one leg over the other while I pulled out my notebook and laid it out on my desk; I was going to make an effort to take notes this time.

Sebastian began pacing back and forth, his grey coat swaying with his movements. "You will receive your first reading assignment this week, and since all of you surprisingly managed to complete and turn in your essays, I figured

we'd start with something easy." Pen ready in hand, I focused on each word that left Sebastian's mouth, the quiet buzz of anxious chatter meeting my ears. Goosebumps riddled my flesh, and for the umpteenth time this morning, I cursed Alois' existence. I observed as Sebastian gathered books in his hands, slinking his way through the rows of students and handing each one a book.

"Thomas Bulfinch: the man who inspired yours truly to become so involved with literature. If you've happened to have lived under a rock your entire life and haven't a clue who this glorious inspiration is, he was an American author born in the late 1700s."

I jot down everything as fast as I can, almostjumping out of my skin when I feel his presence near me. He lays down a book in front of me, coughing awkwardly before he moves on to the next person. As startled as I am, I keep my composure. My curious eyes soak in the large book on my desk, the glittering gold letters spelling Bulfinch's Mythology capturing my attention fully. By now, Sebastian had made it back to the front of the room, his eyes roaming over the class while he clutched the same book in his hand.

"Bulfinch's Mythology is perhaps the most entertaining and informative mythology novel you will ever indulge in. It is compiled of three of Bulfinch's works: The Age of Fable, The Age of Chivalry, and Legends of Charlemagne. The first work focuses on stories of gods and heroes, the second King Arthur, and the third romances of the middle ages. We will be working in this book for weeks to come, so I suggest keeping it in a place where it won't get lost.

"If you have never read these before, they are a great learning tool for the future, mythology majors, I'm looking at you," Sebastian's piercing eyes narrow a bit, and he raises his arm, presenting the book to the class. "However, a word of advice to all of you learners; Bulfinch's information and recounting of these stories is not entirely accurate. Due to Victorian sensibilities and standards, he cut out bits of stories that he considered to be in bad taste, for females also read these stories, and they wanted to avoid tainting young maidens' innocent minds. "We will begin with The Age of Fable. There are over three hundred pages in this section for a total of forty-one stories. I expect you to read them all. Once you're finished, you will pick your favorite and write an essay summarizing the story and why it's your favorite. You may also add in any facts you find from researching if you choose to do so, and anything less than 15,000 words will be unacceptable. Due Friday."

* * *

The week passed in a blur; I completed my readings, as well as the essay, to the best of my abilities, and had turned in the paper at the beginning of class. I was becoming frustrated with how things seemed to be working out. Sebastian had barely spared me a single glance since Monday, though my attire had become increasingly atrocious and 'sexy', as Alois had put it, as each day passed. I was sick of having to wear these articles of clothing, tired of having my efforts squashed at every turn. I had the inkling that Sebastian was avoiding me, and it was pissing me off to no end. I almost wanted to cut my losses and give up, revenge be damned. But that was something my pride would not allow.

Instead, I decided to go to The Regal Chalice, a family bar owned by my Uncle Alexis Midford, a place that had been my regular haunt since childhood. I always hung out by myself in the VIP on the second floor, hardly sparing a glance to the people below. Uncle let me drink there, even though I was underage, because the only person that I had ever brought with me was Alois. He was always telling me that he'd rather I drink in a safe environment under his watch than somewhere dangerous. I took advantage of that fact, and had been going there every weekend from the time I entered middle school.

These clothes were becoming a pain in my ass, literally. Today, Alois had managed to get me into the tightest jeans I had ever seen; not that they weren't cute, with their ripped up knees, and the dark blue of the denim. They were entirely too tight for my liking, perfectly encasing my ass, and squeezing the life out of my dick. I honestly wasn't sure how Alois could even wear such things. The shirt I had on was, once again, a blasted crop top, although it was much shorter than the ones prior. This one was a very thin, soft fabric, with flowing black letters on the front, labeling me as a "fuck toy". If this whole planned was going down the toilet, as I was beginning to suspect it was, I was going to destroy Alois for forcing me into such clothing. Perhaps I could have gone home to change, but the need to drink and come up with new plans for seducing Sebastian overwhelmed me, and I ended up coming straight to the bar after my classes ended. Luckily, I had packed a pair of converse hightops into my bag, and I had gratefully switched them out for the blasted heeled ankle boots Alois had forced on me.

A server came round every so often, replacing my drink with a Screaming Orgasm, just as I had finished the soda I had been drinking. I quite enjoyed how the people who worked here were at my beck and call, knowing my needs before I even announced them. Perhaps it was because I had been coming here for so long, that they knew my drinking habits. Sitting curled up in a comfortable and plush leather chair, I happened to spare a glance down at the patrons below me. It was pretty dead up in the VIP section, considering that the only people allowed up here were family and those who had a considerable amount of wealth, and it was still a little early in the evening. They were all probably still busy with their jobs or what have you.

Sleek, raven-colored hair caught my eye; it was too familiar. I sat up fully, blinking in shock slightly as I realised that Sebastian was here, at The Regal Chalice, sitting alone at the bar. How long had he been there? Had he come here before? If so, when? How often? How long had he been drinking? Several questions flashed through my mind as I studied his appearance; his normally neat locks were slightly disheveled, and I could see that his jacket was undone, his tie loosened and hanging uselessly around his neck. He must be drunk, as I had never seen him in any state other than well-groomed and professional.

As my Uncle, who normally bartended as he liked to get to know the regulars, disappeared into the back room and a young woman took his place, my feet began moving on their own. Before I knew it, I was walking down the stairs, drink in hand. Pausing at the bottom stair, I threw back my drink to steel my resolve, picking a random server to hand the glass to. They handed me another glass, and I determinedly walked over to the bar. I had to hop up onto the stool next to Sebastian's, seeing as how short I am, and once I was comfortably situated, I took a deep breath, taking a large gulp of the Screaming Orgasm. Setting it down, I lean against the wooden counter, and as nonchalantly as I can manage, I greet him.

"I didn't know that you came here, Sebastian." I look at him, my hands wrapped around my hips as my chest rests against the edge of the bar. His sanguine eyes focus on me, and I take in his appearance. He's leaning his head heavily on his hand, looking a bit pathetic, yet still as aggravatingly handsome as ever.

I watch as his brows slowly furrow together in confusion. "P-Phantomhive? You come here?"

"Ciel," I correct him, my head tilting to the side as I smile slightly. I kick my legs back and forth, my feet unable to touch the floor. "I do. I've come here for quite a while, actually. What about you?"

"I, uh," he starts, unsteady hand slowly lifting his glass until it's at his eye level, and I watch his pupils narrow and focus on the ice cubes within his drink. He looks as though he is wanting to take a drink, though he hesitates and responds instead. "I've come to this place for years, and have been frequenting more often these days, it would seem. The owner is a good friend of mine."

Perhaps it was not the kind of information I should be digging for, but I was quite curious. Besides, if I dug too deeply for more personal matters, he'd most likely shut down. I take a sip of my drink, hiding my wicked smirk behind the glass. This information would suit me just fine.

"Friends with the owner? I see." I would have to question Uncle thoroughly about his relationship with Sebastian, if he had ever seen him come here with someone... Filing those thoughts away for later, I glance at the glass he's clutching with his long fingers. "What is that?"

"Scotch, on the rocks," he states, his glassy eyes travelling to look at my drink. "And yours?"

I look at my glass, my lids lowering slightly as I do so. "A Screaming Orgasm," I state matter-of-factly, my brain supplying me with a different type of screaming orgasm I'd like. "They're quite delicious. Would you like a taste?" I peek at him, watching his eyes widen at the name and the hidden meaning behind my question.

"I-I shouldn't. I've probably drank more than an appropriate amount already."

I smirk slightly, shrugging, before tossing back the rest of my drink. I lick my lips slowly, making sure to gather any drops that had escaped. "You know, I didn't expect this to be a place that you would hang around."

Sebastian looks around the establishment, his shaky hand lifting his glass to his lips for him to take a sip. "This place has been around for years, ever since I was a kid. I used to come here and play pool with my buddies when I was a teen. I'm surprised you know about it."

Tapping my finger against my lips, I think about what Sebastian must have been like as a teenager; certainly if he was hanging out at a bar with friends, then he wasn't as professional as he was now. Did he have a wild streak? I thought about what he said, avoiding discussing how exactly I knew about this place. "The owner takes very good care of it. I like the comfortable air here."

He nods his head slightly in agreement with my words, but says nothing more. I listen to the clinking of the ice inside the glass as he finishes off his drink. I'm not ready to let this conversation die; I still want information, and if talking with him has done anything, it has piqued my curiosity even more.

"If you don't mind my asking, you mentioned that you've been frequenting here more often. Is there a particular reason why?" I stick my finger into my glass, stirring around the slowly melting ice.

"I," he starts, once again pausing as if trying to gather his thoughts. He rakes his long fingers through his dark hair, further disheveling it. "I've had some disturbing thoughts lately." He doesn't elaborate any further, and I don't expect him to. His words stir up thoughts of the dreams I've been having every single night.

"Oh?" I say, thinking about what his hands feel like in reality compared to the way they felt in my dream. "So have I..." I mutter to myself, the words coming unbidden from my lips.

Those three simple words seem to grasp his interest, and he turns towards me, his eyes wide as he takes me in. "Y-you have?" He asks, his breathless voice seeming to hold a desperate tone.

I wonder what he would be desperate about.

I bite harshly onto my bottom lip, worrying it between my teeth. I can feel my cheeks growing red from his stare, and I avoid his gaze. "Y-yes," I stutter, clearing my throat and trying again. "Yes, I have."

I begin fidgeting with the crop top, noticing how it's exposing my hipbones. I tug on the hem, wishing for it to cover my entire torso rather than leaving my skin indecently exposed. His eyes are still on me, and I chance a glance at him from my periphery. I watch as his sanguine eyes soften as he looks at me, perhaps with sympathy.

"A Screaming Orgasm, eh? I guess it wouldn't hurt to try." His sudden change of subject is both unexpected and very welcome. He leans over the bar and signals the female bartender. "Hey, honey, mind getting two Screaming Orgasms for me and Ciel here?"

Just as the flush in my cheeks had begun to fade, the usage of my name manages to bring it back full force. I rub at my cheeks discreetly, trying to magically force it away. I can feel a smile on my lips, a little bubble of happiness at him using my first name making me feel more intoxicated than any alcoholic beverage ever could.

"I promise you that they're good. They're my favorite drink." We wait patiently for her to make the drinks, Sebastian giving me a genuine smile that makes me feel weird.

"I'll take your word for it," he says, tapping a finger against the wood. When we receive our drinks, I lift mine up eagerly into the air; turning to Sebastian, I suggest making a toast with bright eyes.

He too, picks his glass up, raising it to mine. "To banishing all disturbing thoughts?"

A small giggle leaves my lips at his words; it was a very fitting thing to toast to, since we both seemed to be consumed in such things. "To banishing all disturbing thoughts."

We clink our glasses together, and I bring mine to my lips, taking a dainty sip. He takes quite a larger drink than I did, and I watch closely as his eyes light up as he regards the glass.

"It's surprisingly sweeter than I expected." I take another sip before setting it down, my tongue darting out to wet my lips.

"But do you think it tastes good?" I ask curiously.

"It is tasty," he agrees, taking another healthy gulp of the mixed drink. I watch as his tongue slips from between his lips and licks away an escaping drop. I swallow, hard, at the sight, and scramble to make my brain think of something innocent.

I bite my tongue, fighting the urge to word vomit something naughty, and lean back on the stool, my gaze turning upwards and taking in the dim lighting coming from the ceiling. "I'm glad that you think so," I say simply. This conversation feels like it's steadily going nowhere, but I'm still desperate for information.

"I think I may have drank a bit too much," Sebastian slurs, his hand coming up to rest against his forehead as his eyes fall shut.

I look at him, concern painted on my face, and without thinking, my hand flutters up to rest upon his shoulder. Worry is thick in my voice as I ask, "Are you okay, Sebastian?"

His body flinches beneath my touch, his eyes opening and flickering over to look into mine. I watch pink bloom over his cheeks, and the reaction is entirely too endearing for my liking. Why is he reacting in such a way? Is it embarrassment? He shakes his head, his face ducking out of my view as soon as I witness the faint blush, almost making me question if I had actually seen it, or if I had imagined it.

Sebastian pushes my hand away from his person, a lot more gently than I would have expected, and he scrambles to his feet as quickly as his drunken mind would allow. "I-I think I should be getting home."

"I--Sebastian, wait," I say, my voice sounding desperate to my own ears, and I work to get the tone under control as I slide from the stool. I leave my drink barely touched, throwing random bills onto the countertop as payment for his drinks and mine. I step towards him, but I'm careful not to touch him again, lest he have a stronger negative reaction. "Shall I go with you, to make sure you get home safe?" I look up at his sharply angular face, biting my lip in my concern for him. I definitely don't think he should be driving in this state. I watch him sway, my eyes following his every slight movement, my body tensed and ready to react at any given moment.

His sanguine eyes capture mine, as if he's searching for something within their sapphire depths. I wonder what he could be looking for. "I-I have to drive home. I can't leave my car here." The excuse seems feeble, like he would let me swat it away and crumple it up if I wanted to. And, I did want to. Perhaps I could go through his things, find more information. Surely that was the only reason I wanted to go to his house. Right?

Finding resolve, I stare back into his orbs, taking another step towards him. "Then we'll take your car, okay? We won't leave it here." I try to make my voice as soothing and reassuring as is possible for me.

I don't get time to debate whether I've done a good job of conveying those things, because his body pitches forward as he takes an unsteady step and stumbles violently. His legs are shaky, and I react without even thinking I will beforehand. I'm right in front of him faster than I could have thought possible, my arms curling around his waist as I spread my legs slightly to support his weight. I may be dainty, but that did not mean that I was weak and feeble.

I only stumbled back slightly, though neither of us toppled over, for which I was thankful. "Oomph. Are you okay?" I feel his arms curling around my shoulders, and my heart stutters, which I find to be quite strange.

"I-I'm fine," he says, though for some reason I'm not convinced. "I just need to get home."

"Well then, let's get you home, okay?" I make sure that Sebastian is steady enough on his feet, and I keep an arm securely around his waist as I begin leading him toward the exit. "Oh, and, I'll be driving," I announce, my tone giving no room for argument.

Still, he argues anyway, shaking his head and stuttering over his words. "I-I can drive." I lead him outside, holding the door open with one hand, the other arm helping him through, and I shoot him a mutinous glare.

"I don't think so," I say coolly. "You're drunk, Sebastian. It's illegal to drive after you've consumed alcohol." I sigh, not really wanting to lecture him, but wanting to get my point across and have my way. We walk up to his car, and I stop. "Look, I can promise you that you would do more damage to your car in the state that you're in than I would currently. I only had two drinks," and a half, I add mentally. I gaze up into his eyes, trying to convey the truth in my next statement. "You can trust me, Sebastian." But he really shouldn't, should he...

He sighs, reluctantly unlocking his car and climbing into the passenger seat. His head reclines back, one arm curling over his stomach as if trying to soothe it. I hope he doesn't vomit. I shut the door for him, heading round to the driver's side. Once I'm situated and the key is in the ignition, I start it up. I have to adjust the seat to my height, seeing as how apparently a fucking giant drives this car. Throwing it into reverse, I pull out of the parking spot and turn towards the street.

"You're going to have to give me directions. I don't know where you live."

A mumbled "turn right," is the only response I get. I roll my eyes, preparing for a long, awkwardly silent drive.

* * *

"We're here. Just turn right." I rotated the wheel right, my hands sliding over the soft leather as the car smoothly pulled into the driveway.

I turned the car off, my eyes regarding the fairly decent sized house that was illuminated in the headlights. "This is your house?"

"I hope so," the intoxicated passenger next to me murmured, his hand clumsily fumbling in the dark for the handle, and pushing his door open once he finally found it. "If not, then the real owners won't be too happy to find a drunk man passed out in their home."

I bit my bottom lip and snorted, trying to stifle my shocked laughter. I never imagined that my typically grim professor could have a humorous side to him, as sour as his humor may be. I promptly climbed out of the car, flitting over to my teacher's side to assist him. "You're really funny, Sebastian. Let's get you inside, shall we?"

I was given a simple agreeing grunt in response, and as he stood to his feet, Sebastian draped his arm over my shoulder once again. I knew he was only doing it to keep his balance, but I cursed him silently for the mere action turning into a routine; I didn't need him to scramble up my insides more than he already has. We shuffled our way toward the house, the headlights on his car giving two last, brief flickers when I locked it with the remote. Reaching the door, my fingers flipped through the various keys on the keyring, unsure as to which key would grant me access into his home.

"These blasted keys..."

"That one," Sebastian blurted out, his index finger pointing to an ordinary silver key that dangled on the ring.

"Thank you," I breathed, and, sliding the correct key in, I couldn't help but feel relieved and a bit worried when the door opened. This was what I wanted; I desired to gain entrance into Sebastian's most cherished and visited location, and I got it. But what would happen now? The uncertainty of what was to come, along with the alcohol that was clogging up my bloodstream, made my stomach twist and turn with uneasiness, and when I felt the uncoordinated body sway in my grasp, I knew the night was far from over with. "Where is your bathroom? You should take a shower or something and brush your teeth."

"No, no," he said, waving his hand in the air. "I just want to go to bed."

I huffed, shaking my head. Why was this idiot still arguing with me? "At least brush your teeth. And then you can go to bed, okay?"

With a sigh, he finally gave in. "Okay. But my bathroom is connected to my bedroom, so you'll have to lead me to my bedroom first." He extended his arm out, his index finger pointing the way. "There, around the corner."

I smiled victoriously, my heart pounding in my chest from eagerness. That was even better. I was now able to go into his bedroom, the most sacred and personal of all the rooms in the house. Surely I would find some juicy information about him in there, and his weaknesses would be exposed to me without him even knowing. It was over. I had already won. 

But before I could go digging for deets, I had to manage to get us both to his bedroom, which was a challenge on its own. The house was completely dark inside, not a glimpse of light in sight, so it was the blind leading the blind as I guided him to our destination. I surprisingly made it without carelessly bumping into any walls though, and I never lost my grip on Sebastian, so I considered that to be an accomplishment. When we entered the bedroom, I made sure to turn on a small light before I dragged him into the bathroom, so we could finally see where the fuck we were going.

I took him over to the bathroom counter, making sure that he had a good grip on it for support before I let him go. "Now brush your teeth," I commanded, striding out of the bathroom. "I'll find you some pajamas or something, unless you sleep in the nude." My body was trembling in anticipation. This was it. I was alone in Sebastian's room, and my hands were allowed to rummage through whatever they wanted to explore. I had to start off slow, though, for he was in the other room, and I could be easily spotted. I calmly treaded over to his dresser, opening up the multiple drawers and searching inside, only finding neatly folded clothing in each one. But that was all right; I was supposed to be looking for pajamas, anyway.

"Don't bother. I'll just sleep in this," his muffled voice yelled to me, sounding as if he was gargling on the toothbrush. I rolled my eyes and sighed in annoyance. Even though I was here solely to find information, I couldn't allow him to make moronic decisions in my presence.

"That cannot be comfortable." I stated, allowing myself to quietly mumble "idiot" right afterwards. The sound of the brush violently scraping against his teeth started up again, and I continued to peek through his drawers for a while longer, eventually just giving up. There was nothing of use in the dresser, and I wouldn't have time to go through the more secretive places. For now, I needed to keep my cool and try to help Sebastian out as much as I could, build up his trust a bit more, and then I would start my hunt.

I walked over and stood in the opening of the doorway, cocking my hips and crossing my arms over my chest as I watched him vigorously clean his teeth in amusement. "If you brush that hard, your teeth will fall out." He bowed his head forward and spit into the sink, a small smudge of toothpaste lingering on the corner of his mouth.

He regarded me through the mirror, his eyes glassy but cross. "Did you follow me home to help me or criticize me?" I gave him a soft smile, his words slightly tugging at my heart strings.

I walked over and wiped the toothpaste from his mouth with one of my fingers, the pad of my digit relishing the softness of his skin. It was just like my dream, only this time, I could feel his warmth. Realising that my finger had been resting on his face for a bit too long, I let my arm drop to my side. "To help you, of course."

Sebastian pushed past me, mumbling something under his breath as he scuttled into his room. He plopped down onto the side of his bed, his hands fidgeting with the loosened tie that was still around his neck, and a frustrated pout crossed his face when he continued to struggle with the nuisance. I watched him for a few seconds before I shook my head and stalked over with confidence. I pushed his hands out of the way as soon as I reached him.

"You're hopeless," I breathed, and though the words were meant to be cold, they seemed to crack with a hint of care. I easily removed the tie and set it aside. My professor regarded me with a softened expression, his eyes practically glowing in awe from the effortless removal.

"Thank you, Ciel." I flushed from the gracious statement, the genuine tone and the use of my name wiping my mind of any and all traces of thought.

I nervously tugged on a strand of my hair and glanced at the ground in a bashful manner. "You- it was nothing. You're welcome."

Sebastian reclined back, gradually laying down fully onto his bed. He groaned as his back hit the mattress, and he draped an arm over his eyes lazily. "What a night."

I stood there awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. "You're telling me." I looked at him again, my usual annoyed sigh escaping my lips once more. "At least take off your jacket and slacks. That's not a comfortable way to sleep. I'm uncomfortable just looking at you. And you're still wearing shoes!" My body moved on its own as I slid onto the foot of the bed, untying each of his shoes and placing them neatly on the floor below.

"I," my professor began, a puzzled expression on his face as he struggled to sit up, frowning even more when his back slammed back down onto the bed beneath him. "I can't."

I looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. He had no patience in his drunken state, and apparently he didn't have much control over his body, either. "I can do it," I muttered, plucking his socks off of his feet first and throwing them onto the ground. I then crawled up to his side, removing his arms from his jacket and propping him up momentarily so I could get the garment off completely. I climbed off of the bed and hung his jacket on the back of a chair. "One down, one to go."

"Here," Sebastian started, reaching his arm out to me. He grabbed a hold of my wrist, and dragged me back onto the bed, only this time, he pulled me on top of him. "It'll be easier to unbutton my trousers this way."

"You're right," I murmured, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. My bottom now rested on his knees, and I could feel my heartbeat pulse steadily in my throat as my shaky hands began to fumble with his pants. I stiffened a bit while I undid his belt, pulling the leather strap through his belt loops until it was completely off of his person. Next, I unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks, an odd feeling of nerves coiling in my abdomen. Sebastian arched his hips upwards so I could pull his pants down, a groan leaving him as he did so.

"God, my head hurts." My breath hitched at the sound, and I hooked my fingers into the hem of his trousers, pulling them as I slid down his legs, until they eventually came off.

"Did you-" I began, stopping to clear my throat. "Did you want any medicine?"

He let out a husky exhale, his arm still shielding his eyes. "No, I think sleep will be best." I shivered at the sound, closing my eyes tightly and trying to calm my racing heart.

"That would probably be best." I moved off of his bed, standing on my trembling legs and leaning over to turn the light off, bathing us in darkness once I did so.

"Thank you for all of your help, Ciel. I really appreciate it."

I froze in place, my eyes traveling over to Sebastian while I worried my lip between my teeth. "Oh, I wouldn't thank me..." I murmured, but my words seemed to vanish in thin air.

He sighed in content, his arm moving away from his already closed eyes, seemingly slipping into a light unconsciousness. I studied his features silently in the dark, my eyes finally adjusting. He appeared to be asleep; he must've been exhausted, he passed out so quick. This would be the perfect time to sort through his belongings, find what dirty secrets he had lying around...

But I couldn't bring myself to move. My feet felt like they were planted in the ground, and even my conscience was fighting against snooping through his things. I did manage to take a few steps, however, they were leading me back to the bed, and my limbs moved on their own accord until I was standing over my unconscious teacher. What the hell was wrong with me? Again, my mind seemed to be lost in limbo while my body moved on its own, crawling back onto the bed cautiously. My eyes studied his face, trying to make sure that he was definitely asleep before I did anything too rash. I leaned down, brushing my nose against the underside of his jaw and breathing in his scent. My eyes practically rolled back into my skull from the smell, and I tried to inhale as much of it as I could. His cologne was still detectable on his skin, though it was faint. It still smelled of musk and masculinity, and the barest hint of cigarettes was laced in there, as well, though I couldn't picture Sebastian as a smoker; it was most likely picked up from another patron at the bar. A breath caught in Sebastian's throat, and my heart immediately halted. Panic surged through me at the thought of him waking up, but it was just a false alarm. Soon, he was inhaling and exhaling normally without a care in the world, and this drove me to do something even more daring. I slid a dainty hand up his shirt, nearly shivering as I caressed the muscles I found there. I wanted to see what I was touching. I wanted to memorize his body. I began unbuttoning his shirt, my fingers moving quickly until they were all undone and I threw the fabric open, my eyes alighting with hunger when I soaked in the sight of his skin. He was absolutely flawless. No scars, no unsightly birthmarks. Just a perfectly toned, well-maintained body. My dick was beginning to twitch to life and I ignored the peaceful hum that came from the man beneath me as I climbed completely on top of him, my butt resting right above his crotch and my hands still exploring his torso.

I bit my lip and leaned forward, lips grazing his ear as I whisper "Sebastian, I told you that you shouldn't thank me."

He seemed to stir a little, but not enough to wake. I could feel his shaft slowly harden underneath me, however, so even though he was unaware of what I was doing to him, his body was alert and willing. Again, I found myself wondering what the hell I was thinking of doing. Alois gave me pointers on how to seduce, but he never prepared me for this situation. Besides, Sebastian was asleep. He didn't need to be seduced anyway, right? Right?

I knew that the most logical thing to do would be to leave, call up my driver and give him directions to the house and just go back home. I already did my part by helping him; I had no business here anymore. But, for some reason, it seemed that my curiosity and interest wouldn't let me depart just yet. I wondered how far I could go with this man that infuriated me yet entranced me to no end, and I was willing to take my chances at being caught. I slid back a little, my ass now caressing the slight erection below me, and I gave a quiet hiss at the feeling. My movements appeared to have excited him, for it hardened even more and a groan slipped past my teacher's lips, his eyeballs shifting frantically underneath his eyelids as if he were having a bad dream. I paused momentarily, the sound he made going straight to my dick and causing it to angrily strain against my pants. A tiny whimper left my throat, and I rolled my hips slightly, grinding into the bulge while I trembled. Sebastian shifted in his sleep, his body reclining upwards in the process and pressing his erection even harder against me. I let out an unvolunatary moan, my hand coming up to slap my mouth to keep me quiet. My other hand gripped his shoulder to steady myself, giving me all the leverage I needed to grind into him like a wanton whore. Sebastian shifted again, only this time his movements made his underwear crumple down, exposing a new area of skin to my eyes. I desperately tried to tear the covering garment away, my fingers tugging at the elastic as if I were famished, and the only thing to appease my hunger would be the reveal of his most private area. I shivered and shook, trembling with anticipation as I unclothed more and more, from his hipbones down to the sexy v-lines that were carved beneath his abs. I was so close to seeing it, the adrenaline pulsating within me was strong enough to knock me out. One more tug, and the erection that I had been working so hard to stimulate would finally be free...

"C-Ciel?" He called out, his eyelids fluttering open, yet they were still squinted from fatigue. I turned to stone, every last bit of functioning I had in me coming to a halt.

Hearing his voice and knowing that he was now awake made the question I had asked myself ring louder than ever before. What the hell was I doing? "S-Sebastian. I..."

"W-what are you doing? Aren't you taking my pants off?" He was looking around in a daze, probably wondering if he was still dreaming. He posed an excellent inquiry, one that practically read my mind; I didn't know what the fuck I was doing.

"I-" I started, but began to trail off. I removed my fingers from the elastic on his shorts, but I couldn't withdraw them completely for fear of losing my balance. I settled for resting them on his hipbones, hoping he wouldn't mind. "I already did."

I was genuinely surprised that I didn't bite my entire lower lip off while I watched him look down at his body, noting that my ass was pressed firmly against his crotch and his shirt was now unbuttoned.

"Ciel..." My cheeks were on fire, and I refused to meet his gaze when I could feel him staring at me. My hands were still awkwardly placed on his hips, and I wondered when he would throw me off and kick me out of the house like the fucking psycho I am.

"I told you, you shouldn't thank me. I... I want you, Sebastian. I crave you." I shifted in discomfort, my own arousal straining in my tight shorts as I moved against the other one under me. It all happened so fast, my brain couldn't process what was going on.

Sebastian's arm shot into the air at the speed of light, and had I known any better, I would've been scared he was going to hit me. But he didn't strike me; instead, his hand curled around the back of my neck and pulled me down forcefully, our lips crushing together on impact and his other hand gripped onto my hip, forbidding me from moving. I jolted in shock at the sudden action, my eyes widening before I hungrily kissed him back, a small moan rising in the back of my throat only to be muffled by our smashing mouths. I pressed my body against his, my heart pounding erratically and my excitement soaring to new heights. Sebastian's hips gyrated expertly, making his underwear pool further down his legs so his bare erection grinded against my ass. I couldn't see the monster that was eagerly rubbing against me, but I was sure it of an ungodly size. His mouth continued to devour mine, tremors prancing along my spine as he slipped his tongue past his teeth, his wet, delicious muscle massaging against my own. I teasingly nibbled on his tongue while I rocked my hips forward, my crotch brushing against his delectable abs. My breathing quickened and I moaned into our unbreakable kiss, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I lost myself in the overwhelmingly pleasant sensations. His hand still clutched at my hip, squeezing it hard enough that I was sure he could break my bones if he so wished. His nails scratched at my porcelain skin, trying to rid my legs of the jeans that confined them while his other hand left my neck to trail down my back with feather-like touches.

I slipped a hand between us and fumbled with the annoying button, my lips breaking free from his, gasping for air. "Sebastian."

"Ciel," he called back softly, his hands tugging at the jeans as well. I lifted my hips and removed them completely, along with my panties that joined my discarded pants on the floor.

"Please, Sebastian," I whimpered desperately, pulling my top off and throwing it to the ground with the rest of my wardrobe. His hands immediately started groping my chest, his fingers fluttering over my sensitive nipple piercings. He must've liked what he felt, for he chose to focus on them the most, pinching and rolling the cold metal in between his nails. I threw my head back and let out a long moan, my soft locks tickling the back of my neck as I lolled my head in pleasure.

"Sit on me," Sebastian ordered, his voice escaping in breathless pants. By now, his dick was hard as a rock, and it was sliding against my soft mounds, as if pleading to get inside. I bit my lip and sat further down on his erection, feeling the heated flesh rub between my cheeks.

"Sebastian, I-" I began, an embarrassed blush dusting across my face. "I'm a virgin." He stopped his touching and was still for a moment, his eyes wide at the confession. I chewed on my lip, nervous that he wouldn't want to continue. But again, he surprised me, for he pulled me back down to his level, my chest resting against his while he wrapped another arm around my body to hold me still.

"Allow me, then," Sebastian whispered, his fingers gently grazing my skin in a reassuring manner. He slowly rocked his hips up until his tip prodded at my puckered entrance, then he proceeded with his dick entering me gradually, inch by inch. I laid my head on his chest, my eyes squeezing shut and my fingers digging into his flesh as I felt myself being opened up by his erection. I gasped lowly, trying to relax my muscles even though the pain seemed unbearable."It's okay," he breathed, his soft voice tangling in my hair. "I won't hurt you." His proclamation made my blush darken, but I nodded, acknowledging my trust in him.

He continued to move deeper inside of me until he was completely sheathed in my body, and by that point, I thought I was about to rip into two. I allowed my body some time to adjust to the foreign object inside me, and only when I was absolutely sure did I croak out "Please move, Sebastian."

He hissed as he pulled out of me, the departure probably feeling worse for him than it did me. He slid half way out, then thrust in gently again, his hand rising to ruffle my hair when he noticed me shivering. "Are you all right?"

I glanced up at him, my lidded orbs filled with lust and I rolled my hips into his. "Yes, I- Please, don't stop. I'm just not used to your size. My fingers are much smaller..." I trailed off, humiliation taking over my expression when I realised what I had admitted.

He moaned upon hearing my confession, however, and he rocked his hips up into me in compliance, starting to get a steady rhythm of thrusting in and out of me. I moaned wantonly, bucking my hips into his to meet his thrusts, raising my torso to help him get a better angle. "S-Sebastian."

His hands settled on my hips ocne again, clenching onto them and trying to pull me further down onto his dick. I watched as his self control slowly began to unravel and his pace sped up drastically, a gasp rising in his throat. "F-fuck."

"Yes," I moaned louder, sitting my body up fully and riding him like the little whore I was, my back arching sharply while pleasure coursed through every nerve in my body. "God, yes."

Sebastian let out a cry that was deep and guttural, his head lolling back further into his pillow as the same sensations graced him. He was now thrusting wildly up into me, his erection throbbing inside my tight walls. "Fuck, Ciel," he growled. "You feel so fucking good."

"Sebastian!" I screamed, tears of sweat running down the sides of my face and pants pouring out of my mouth as his head brushed against my most sensitive bundle of nerves, sending an immense amount of pleasure straight to my own dick and leaving me unable to think. I rolled my hips into him maddeningly, crying out as loud as my vocal chords would go. "T-there, again. Please! F-fuck."

He growled again. "With pleasure." He rammed his dick into me brutally, his nails digging deep into my hipbones as he forced me down onto his cock, his movements swift and harsh. I frantically matched his pace, my body trembling from wave after wave of ecstasy.

Suddenly remembering one of Alois' tips, I let one of my hands wander and wrap around a piece of his hair, tugging on the lock roughly. The action drove him even crazier and he pounded into me like an animal, snarls and hisses leaving his lips. I gripped on tightly to his shoulders to support myself, a mixture of his name and various expletives slipping off my tongue. "Yes, fuck. Seba...stian!"

Sebastian yelled one final, breathless moan before he violently thrust deep inside me, warm cum gushing through and filling my tight walls while his body shook and tremored from his orgasm. Panting and relishing the heat that his engorged flesh sent radiating through me, more curses and moans were released from my throat, my muscles squeezing around his dick and spasming as I hit my climax as well, my heart pounding in my chest and my lungs desperate for air. I gently eased myself down on top of him, shocks and tingles running along my flesh, and my legs were so shaky I was afraid I wouldn't be able to walk again.

"H-holy fuck," I gasped, tears of sweat dripping off strands of my hair and down the sides of my face. Sebastian gazed at me with softened eyes, his chest rising and falling dramatically while his breathing tried keep up with him.

"C-Ciel..." He began, and his lips parted as if he was ready to say something else, but he immediately and suddenly lost consciousness, his heavy eyelids finally drooping shut and his once trembling body beginning to come to a peaceful still.

I observed him as he slept, trying to keep my panting quiet and my legs steady as I tried to climb off of him. Before I did, however, a possessive streak gnawed at me, and I slid down until I reached his abdomen, my fingers dancing across his beautiful muscles. I rested my soft lips against his alabaster skin, then I abruptly took a bite into his unmarred flesh, my teeth sinking into his skin and my mouth sucking on it ravenously. I stopped once a dark purple bruise had formed, and a sly smile graced my lips as I ran the pads of my fingers over the love bite, my dark eyes raising to look at his tranquil, unbothered face.

"You're mine now, Sebastian." I allowed myself some time to regain my balance, before I quickly dressed myself and set out to finish what I came here for.

Unfortunately, my endeavor didn't go as well as I had hoped. I scoured through his entire room, only finding various books on subjects I didn't find interesting. I came across his laptop, but it was locked with a security password, and I didn't have the time nor the energy to attempt to hack into it. Other than various graded papers that were neatly stacked into piles, there was nothing of interest; no personal photographs, no letters or voicemails on his landline, and I hadn't been able to locate his cellular phone. I ended up dialing my driver, giving him the address to the house and telling him to pick me up as soon as possible, in my most demanding tone. I was pissed that I had came up empty handed; but this wasn't over yet. As soon as my chauffeur arrived, I rushed into the car at lightning speed and commanded him to take me home straightaway.

I watched out the window as Sebastian's house disappeared in the distance, my heart aching in a way and my brain wondering why the hell I gave my virginity up so easily to a man I can't even stand.

"None of that matters now," I whispered to myself, my eyes narrowing. "Because you're mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I hope you loved this chapter. It took a lot, and I do mean A LOT, of mutual effort, anger, blood, and tears. It was an exhausting experience, but both of us are happy to deliver it into your waiting hands.  
> Please feed us comments, they would be greatly appreciated and would probably make us feel better about this cursed fucking chapter as a whole.  
> Kisses and Love, Always Love, Ritsy.


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